


From the Dust

by zestycrouton



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drama, F/M, Museums, Romance, Some Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2019-11-18
Packaged: 2020-03-01 14:09:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 39
Words: 401,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18801895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zestycrouton/pseuds/zestycrouton
Summary: A year has passed since the Ordon High Massacre, and what was meant as a harmless class trip to the Museum of National History up in Castleton for Link, Zelda, and their friends results in a horrifying struggle for the fate of mankind and the secrets kept so long in the dark."History cries, as one from the dust, raising a silent voice of warning... There is much we could learn, if we would but listen."AU. Sequel to 'Hit List'.





	1. Adventure Time!

“Alright boys, let’s go over this one last time. You’ve confirmed with the bus agency for tomorrow afternoon?”

“Check.”

“All of the students who’ve turned in permission slips have had them signed by parents and paid the fee in full?”

“Double-check.”

“You made sure they repeated the time of departure on this afternoon’s announcements so that nobody forgets?”

“Triple-check… Wait, weren’t you listening to the announcements? Shouldn’t you know that yourself?”

Mr. Auru flashed Sheik a cheeky grin before continuing. “Have you confirmed our reservations with the Stock Pot Inn in Castleton?”

“Yes,” Link answered, as Sheik was too busy shaking his head in mock-disapproval at their teacher whose grin was steadily growing all the more pronounced.

“And lastly, have you visited all the volunteer chaperones and made sure they haven’t had any last-minute changes of plan?”

“Yeah… We divided them between us and tackled that during lunch. Me and Zelda visited Mr. Alfonzo, Professor Ezlo, and Coach- I mean, Vice-Principal Nabooru. And Sheik and Midna handled the others.”

“Well, Sheik?”

Link’s best friend rolled his blood-red irises in faux-impatience. “Yeah yeah, Astrid’s on board, and so is Syrup. We didn’t bother visiting you, because we figured you were in, but seeing as you didn’t even listen to the announcements like a good teacher…”

“I was a little occupied.” Auru shrugged nonchalantly.  
  
“Yeah, telling me off for not paying attention to the announcements!” Sheik exploded.

“Exactly.  I couldn’t pay attention because I was too busy getting you to pay attention!”

“Anyway,” Link cut in hastily, drawing attention back to the matter at hand; school was out and he was hungry, Din blast it! He didn’t have time for their shenanigans, he wanted to get home! “I think we’ve got it all covered. Unless there’s anything I’m forgetting…?”

"No, I think you're right, Link my boy," Auru replied, shuffling absently through the stacks of papers on his desk. "You two can head on out now. My goodness…"

 Auru screwed up his face grotesquely as he twisted his arms behind his back and stretched, groaning loudly. Several loud pops were heard before he slumped forward again with a relieved sigh; Sheik nodded approvingly.

"Link, this field trip idea of yours was a great idea; you kids'll have fun, learn a lot, and be able to get away from... well, the nastier bit of the weekend. Hopefully. That's our goal, at least. But by Nayru, it was a lot of work to put together… I'm grateful you and your friends were able to help me out, or I don't think we would've done it."

“It’s no big deal, Mr. Auru,” Link said, rising from his seated position at the desk in front of Auru’s and slinging his backpack over one shoulder, Sheik doing the same at his left. “I’m just glad we could help. See you tomorrow.”

“The bus leaves at one pm sharp! Don’t be late!”

"Yeah yeah," Sheik said, dismissing Auru with an impatient wave. “We’re the ones who scheduled the bus, we know when it leaves.”

“Which means you’ll look even stupider for missing it.”  

“I’ll make sure he’s there,” Link promised, shoving Sheik through the open doorway of their World History classroom, and with a parting wave to Mr. Auru, the two teens made their way off down the hallway.

They followed the familiar curve of Ordon High's second floor, heading toward the stairwell by the band room that led out towards the parking lot, exchanging idle banter. The lockers still bore the look of fresh paint despite the year that had passed since the refurbishment, and the tiled floor, though dirtier, also retained that ‘new school look’; Link was sure it had something to do with the fact that the janitor who’d replaced Linebeck after he’d quit was much more competent at his job than his portly counterpart had been.

The fact of the matter was, the school had changed a great deal since the nightmare that had occurred the year before. New paint, new lockers, new flooring, almost an entirely new staff, and surprisingly a flood of new students. Even the atmosphere was different. Where before, the school had been rife with cliques and cast systems that resembled a bad 80s movie, the new Ordon High was incredibly open and friendly; not perfect by any stretch of the imagination, but a remarkable step forward from where they’d been before the shooting.

But this biggest change of all was simply in the demeanor of the students. Even in his most optimistic moments, Link had never hoped for the school to progress as far as it had. They were simply… happier as a student body. They laughed more. They participated in school events. When it was pep rally or spirit time, they went all out, and the competing schools at sporting events were drowned out in a tidal wave of pure Ordon pride. The credit for that didn’t go to any particular individual either but to the students as a whole. They'd been changed by the Ordon High Massacre, forever. They’d learned they had to look on the bright side, seize every opportunity and treat others the best that they could, because who knew when the last time you’d see your best friend was?

Link and Sheik reached the ground floor and exited the doorway, heading to the student parking lot which was virtually empty by now. Passing the memorial garden, they headed off down the sidewalk and began their trek home.

It was the beginning of April, and spring was well on its way, making the would-be chilling breeze less-than threatening. Link had foregone his normal oversized hoodie and walked down the street in a simple blue T-shirt and khaki cargos. Sheik still sported the ripped skinny-jeans look and had one of those short sleeve shirts that was purple

Link supposed he was lucky they lived just a few blocks down the road from the school building, about a fifteen-minute walk. His less-than-faithful truck, Epona, had finally kicked the bucket earlier in the year, meaning that Link’s daily schedule suddenly included a lot more exercise

As the two teens arrived at an intersection, Link stuffed his hands into the pockets of his pants and turned to Sheik.

"You working today?" Link asked, changing the subject from whatever his friend had been talking about; truth be told, Link was so fixated on his hunger that he hadn’t actually been listening.

Sheik sighed, seeming to deflate a bit. “Yeah, I gotta head straight over to the pet shop. No time to even grab a snack. Madam Mamamu Yan can be a bit of a stickler.”

Link smirked. Complain as he might, Link knew that Sheik loved his job. He was a closet kitten lover and thought nobody knew. Everyone did. Midna had pictures.

“Granny’ll be irritated. She thinks they work you too much. She probably made us dinner already, and now I’ll have to eat it all by myself.”

“You’re going to save me some if you know what’s good for you. It’s too early for dinner anyway,” Sheik grumbled, and Link gave a light chuckle.

Glancing impatiently across the intersection, he checked the little black box that showed whether it was safe to walk. The stick figure was still red. He frowned; stupid intersections and their wait times with no respect for the common pedestrian… There was a girl at the opposite side who was also waiting for the appropriate traffic signal while she read something on a sheet of paper in her hand. You see? Yet another innocent person, inconvenienced, probably starving to death like he was. Curse traffic laws and all those who obey them!

“Dude, what’s with that face?” Sheik laughed, finally catching on.

"I'm hungry!" Link blurted out, throwing his hands into the air in frustration. "I mean, come on! We miss the light at this intersection every time! You'd think they'd wisen up and build one of those walkways over the street to help all the poor, helpless feet-bound high schoolers who are dying of malnourishment after a long and grueling day at school! What else is our tax money good for?!"

“Dude, you don’t pay taxes. You don’t even have a job.”

“So what? I stand by what I said.”

“I worry for your sanity when you’re hungry.”

The cars passing on the road began to slow to a stop and the stick figure flashed green.

“Oh look, it seems the Goddesses heard your whining and deigned to pity you.”

“Shut up,” Link grunted, adjusting his backpack and stepping out onto the asphalt, his best friend following suit with a grin.

As they passed the girl, nose still buried in her papers, Link noted Sheik’s gaze trailing after her.

“Midna would kill you if she could see you right now,” he commented lightly.

“Just because I’m dating someone doesn’t mean I’m blind,” he shot back cheekily. “Besides, you can bet she ogles every attractive man she sees. And it’s not my fault I have a weakness for redheads.”

“Something tells me she doesn’t share your viewpoints.”

“When do women ever share our viewpoints?”

“When do women’s viewpoints matter?”

Sheik let out a snort of laughter, but his best friend’s response was lost as Link turned his attention back over his shoulder.

He wasn’t sure what made him do it; maybe it was the sound of rustling papers as the wind blew them out of the girl’s hands. Maybe it was the crunch of gravel as she crouched down, desperately trying to gather them up before they all blew away. Regardless of the motives, at the moment that Link turned his head, he saw a fire red sports car flying down the street, swerving drunkenly in both lanes, heedless of the girl crouched down in its path.

“Dude,” Sheik went on, ignorant of the scene about to play out behind them, “imagine if-“

Link turned on the spot and dropped his backpack, breaking into a full-out sprint. There wasn’t time to consider a better course of action; the car was seconds away from hitting her and the girl had only just now noticed, too late to do more than throw up her arms and begin to scream. Link did the only thing that crossed his mind; taking a page from Darunia’s book, he threw himself forward and slammed his body into the girl, and the two of them crashed to the side. His body hit the pavement as the car shot past, its horn blaring, and he rolled a few more feet, pain flashing throughout his body.

When the world stopped spinning, he let out a pathetic moan and pushed himself into a sitting position. His elbow was throbbing from where he’d initially hit the ground and his knees weren’t much better. It wasn’t until he realized he wasn’t dead that the thought occurred to him, ‘what in the name of Din were you thinking?!’

Casting his eyes about him quickly to make sure there weren’t any more renegade cars coming their way, Link turned his attention to the girl who was still laying on the road a few feet away. Suddenly worried she might have been hurt in the fall, Link clambered hastily to his feet and hurried to her side.

She was lying on her back staring wide-eyed at the sky, a traumatized look on her face.

Kneeling beside her and concerned about the potential of brain damage, he gently nudged her shoulder and murmured, “Hey, are you alright?”

The girl, whose long scarlet hair was now wildly mussed, took a sudden, shuddering breath and squeezed her wide, sea-green eyes shut. After a moment she blinked her eyes back open and stared up at Link in confusion.

“What… what happened?”

“Car ran the light. Almost ran you over. I pushed you out of the way.”

“You saved me?” She breathed softly, her voice taking on a wondrous quality, and Link gave an uncomfortable shrug.

“I… guess? You ok?”

He held out a hand and she grasped it, letting him pull her to her feet. As she hurriedly adjusted her sundress, Link got a better look at her.

She was a startlingly pretty girl, if truth be told, with a smattering of freckles across her cheeks and a surprisingly cute, dimpled smile which she flashed at him shyly, staring up at Link through her long lashes. Her dress was a little dirty from the fall and slightly torn at the hem.

“So, um… thanks. For saving me, I mean. That was really cool.”

“It was nothing, really.”

She giggled. “Heroically saving a girl from certain death is nothing?”

“Yeah, he’s kinda got a ‘saving people’ thing. Don’t worry about it, this is just another day at the park for him,” came Sheik’s dull voice as he joined them with the girl’s scattered papers gathered in his hand.

“Is this sheet music?” he asked as she took them back with a grateful smile and began shuffling them back into order.

"Yeah! I'm a bit of a music aficionado, actually. I'm in the choir."   

“Oh yeah? I don’t think I’ve seen you before today.”

“I’m actually new here. This is my first week.” She let out a despondent sigh, puffing out her lower lip. “New kid at school and I already nearly died. Worst first week ever.”

 _Zelda might have something to say about that_ , Link thought darkly.

“So what’s your name?” he asked instead, casting off the negative memories.

“Um guys, maybe we should get out of the road…?” Sheik suggested, and Link and the redhead both turned around to see a line of cars waiting impatiently for them to get out of the way.

“Oh.”

“Whoops!”

Giggling, the girl skipped ahead of the two boys as they relocated hurriedly to the sidewalk on the side of the road where Link and Sheik had initially started out. Link noted this with a dark scowl and his stomach gave a mutinous rumble. Looks like food still wasn’t on the menu.

“So…” the girl drawled, twirling around and grinning at them both. “I’m Marin! What are your names?”

“Sheik Shadow.”

“I’m Link.”

The bright, friendly smile slid off her face, replaced by a look of sheer awe. “Y-you’re Link? Like, _the_ Link? Link Hero?”

Link scratched the back of his head awkwardly. “I dunno if my name deserves a ‘the’ in front of it, but yeah, I’m Link.”

“Oh… my… gods…” she breathed, and Link let loose an internal sigh.

“Here we go...” Sheik muttered.  
  
“Like, I can’t believe it! I got saved by Link Hero! Din, this is awesome! It’s like I actually fit in here now! Did you really do all that stuff everyone says you did last year? That’s so cool! I mean, no, it’s awful, but it’s so amazing how you saved everyone! Goddesses, you really are a hero! Ah, Nayru, this is so exciting!”

“Uh…?” Link muttered, feeling flushed and uncomfortable.

“Yeah, he’s definitely something, isn’t he?” Sheik deadpanned.

The girl, Marin, was a little breathless, and it was sort of freaking Link out. Sure, he’d been a little hero worshipped ever since the events of the end of the last school year, but it had died down a lot since the new school year started, and he had never been comfortable with it. Zelda liked to say that he had a problem accepting praise, but even she would agree this was a bit much.

“So… anyway, you sure you’re ok?”

“What? Oh! Oh yeah, I’m fine! Just a little scratched up but nothing major. Thank you so much for saving me, that was super cool! Um, so…. I guess I’ll see you guys at school?”

“Sure,” Link replied with an earnest smile; it seemed like the conversation was drawing to a close, and that meant food would come sooner.

“Yeah… so, you guys going on the field trip tomorrow?” Her cheeks were slightly flushed, and she was biting her lip and swaying on the spot with her arms hooked behind her back, her eyes glued to Link’s.

“Yeah, we sorta helped plan it… wait, are you going too? I thought you said this was your first week, how does that work?”

“Before I moved here, I was chosen to sing ‘The Ballad of the Wind Fish’ in honor of the Hero of Time celebration with the Hyrulian National Symphony Orchestra, but then my dad got a new job here in Ordon. We thought I wouldn’t be able to go, but my dad contacted the school and Principal Oshus told us about the field trip. I guess somebody dropped out and I’m taking their place? I don’t really know myself, I guess Mr. Aur-whatever is taking care of it. I’m actually really excited; I love the Hero of Time, it’s my favorite legend. So you guys are going?”

All of that came out in one breath.

“Yup,” Link replied after a moment, realizing he was staring.

“Oh, that’s so cool! I’ll actually know some people!” She gushed.

“Right…. Well hey, I need to get to work now, so we need to go…” Sheik cut in a little pointedly, and Link was secretly grateful; the girl seemed nice and all, but seriously- nourishment.

“Oh, ok! That’s totally fine! Well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, right?”

“Sure thing.”

“Ok! So, um… bye!”

“Uh-huh.”

“Later.”

The girl waved ecstatically before turning on the spot and bouncing off down the street, humming something under her breath, leaving Link and Sheik once again waiting for the light.

Silence engulfed the duo.

 “…She seems nice.”

“Mmm.”

“You really have a thing for saving the pretty new girl, don’t you?”

“Shut up.”

“…”

“…”

“Oh hey, the light’s green.”

“Yesss…”

The rest of the walk was uneventful; Sheik peeled off a few streets later and Link continued the walk to the house alone. Unbidden, his thoughts wandered in the direction of the anniversary that was coming up in just two days’ time. This coming Friday was the one-year anniversary of the Ordon High Massacre. Out of respect for the fears of students and parents, and in order to dissuade the unfortunate possibility of copy-cat attacks, the school had decided to close on that particular day and to have a half-day on Thursday. Link was all for an extra day off school; he just wished the reasoning didn’t have to be so dark.

As it turns out, this weekend was also another anniversary; the Hero of Time celebration’s tricentennial anniversary, to be exact. The holiday wasn’t anything super-special, at least not here in Ordon, but being the three-hundredth anniversary was exciting for just about anything, even a historical figure, and the Museum of National History up in Castleton had decided to go all-out.

They’d redesigned the museum in honor of the Hero of Time, entire rooms and wings of the building dedicated to aspects of the various legends and would be holding a festival in honor of the Hero this weekend. When Link had heard about it, he was naturally intrigued; how could he not be, it was a festival dedicated to himself.

Ever since discovering last year that he was the current reincarnation of the legendary Hero of Time, Link had discovered that life was literally no different. Sure, he had weird dreams sometimes from past lives that he could scarcely remember, and he had a bizarre mark on his hand, and there was the whole Ganondorf thing last year, but aside from that he was your average teenage guy.

Which was another reason for why he’d wanted to go to Castleton so badly. There were so many questions he wanted to ask, but nobody had the answers. Zelda had mentioned how she’d heard the voice of Nayru a few times during the shooting, but Link had never heard the voice of Farore, or anybody, guiding him. Maybe the Goddesses were sexist? Or maybe it didn’t matter anymore because their job was done and the world was safe? That last thought kept him up at night sometimes, though he couldn’t say for sure why.

Link and Zelda had taken to hiding the Triforce marks on the backs of their hands. Not from embarrassment, but rather to avoid running into anybody who understood their significance and asking too many questions. Zelda had tried to use makeup at first but it kept rubbing off, so the two of them had taken to making a rather bizarre fashion statement; they both wore a single fingerless glove, Link on his left-hand and Zelda on her right.

If it weren’t for their popularity and for the fact that the students at Ordon High were walking on eggshells when it came to teasing others they might have received a number of weird comments from their peers, but most people seemed to think it was in honor of whatever had gone down between them and Ganondorf in the Principal’s office that day. There were whispers that their hands were horribly scarred, or that they covered the hands that had failed to hold on to each other when Link had slipped through Zelda’s fingers and fallen from the window. That last one was probably perpetrated by Ruto, but regardless, the student body basically revered them for it

In any event, knowing that his grandmother would decline taking him up there (she hated museums with a burning passion for reasons she claimed she wasn’t legally able to explain), and lacking a job and therefore funds necessary to go himself, Link had had a brilliant idea; get the school to pay for it! He’d pitched the idea to Auru in private, knowing the man was a history buff and hoping that if he spun it not only as a great way to help his students ‘learn to love the magic of history’, but also as a way to get their minds off of the anniversary of the shooting, he’d have a better chance at succeeding.

And succeed he did. It helped that Zelda was on-board instantly; she was every bit as excited as he was to glean some information from their past lives, and what better place to do it? Their friends jumped on the bandwagon not long after, because who doesn't love school field trips to other cities when all your friends are on board? And once it became clear that Link and his friends were going, everyone else wanted to come along, and the trip wound up being a tremendous success. Or it looked to be, at least. They had around sixty to seventy kids signed up, which was pretty decent all things considered.

Finally making it home, Link slipped his key into the lock, swung the door open, kicked off his shoes, and entered the house aiming for the kitchen where he could smell what was undoubtedly his Granny’s famous gumbo cooking on the stove. Sure enough, the travel-sized older lady stood before a large silver pot, stirring away with gusto and humming to herself as she did.

“Hey Granny, I’m back,” Link said, as per usual, heading to the fridge and sticking his head inside, looking for a snack. He felt a slap against his back and jerked upright, shooting his grandmother an indignant look as she brandished the wooden spoon at him in a threatening manner.

“You get your head out of that fridge before you ruin your supper! Dinner will be ready in a half an hour, you can wait until then!”

“Aw, but Granny…” Link whined, but she’d already turned back to the stove.

"No buts. Go wait in your room until I'm done, I don't need you cluttering up my workspace. Where is Aryll when I need her? She’d actually be willing to help me.”

“Aryll’s not here?”

“She’s got track practice, remember?”

“Oh yeah.” He never could remember what it was Aryll did with her life. She was always starting something new and it was hard to keep track of sometimes. Heh. Track. He was hilarious. “So, I guess that means more food for me.”

“No, you rotten child. We’ll be saving some for her and Sheik, so don’t you get any ideas.”

Link gave an affectionate grin and leaned back against the wall, watching his grandmother work. “Y’know, if you really need help, I can give you a hand.”

“You mean if I really want my house burned down? No, I think I’m good. Go finish your homework or something and get out of my hair.”

"Yes, ma'am!" Link mock saluted and headed towards the hallway.

“You still have that field trip tomorrow?” Granny called just before he left the room.

“Yup. Bus leaves at one o’clock, right as school gets out.”

Granny Hero clucked her tongue and shook her head disdainfully. “You kids… Back in my day, a three-day weekend meant going to the beach and having parties with my friends, but you three are going to spend all your free time at a museum learning about history. Honestly, I don’t know where I went wrong with you.”

"Well, you know me, so dedicated to my studies..."

She stuck her tongue out at him playfully and shooed him from the kitchen.

So, no food just yet. His stomach growled rebelliously, but even it knew better than to cross Granny Hero. Trudging to his room, he cast the door open and made to belly-flop dramatically onto his bed.

Problem was, it was already occupied.

“Oh, you’re home.”

Link blinked. “Hey Zel, Granny didn’t mention you were here.”

She shrugged but otherwise didn't comment. She was lying in his bed, propped up against the headrest and using his pillow as a cushion, carefully reading over something on her tablet as she took notes in her spiral-bound notebook, one of those fuzzy pens clasped in her gloved hand. Her hair was the same as it had been a year ago, long and straight and extending to just above her middle-back, in that gold-blonde-brunette-ish color that he so loved. Her violet eyes were glued to the screen without emotion and she sported rainbow socks under her jeans and a canary yellow shirt-thing… what did girls call them? A blouse? He actually didn’t know what a blouse was, but that was usually his go-to word for a girl’s shirt.

She flicked her gaze up to him when she realized he hadn’t moved and quirked an eyebrow.

“You ok?”

“I’m starving,” he confessed, deciding not to inform her that he’d really been ruminating on the various quirky eccentricities of female fashion and instead tossed his backpack across his cluttered room towards Sheik’s bed, finally stepping inside.

“Granny should have dinner ready soon,” she commented idly as Link collapsed onto his face on the bedspread beside her.

He gave a short grunt and she began running her fingers through his hair.

“Don’t you have any homework?”

He grunted again.

“Link.”

“Maybe…”

“Hun, do your homework.”

“I don’t wanna…”

“You don’t want to graduate from high school either?”

“And if I said no?”

"I can't very well date a dropout. Guess we'd have to break up."

“You can’t break up with me. Destiny won’t let you.”

“Watch me.”

“You’re being cruel…” he groaned, curling on his side and pulling his pillow into his arms, facing away from her. “I miss nice Zelda. Where’d she go?”

“There is no nice Zelda. Everything you know is a lie.”

“Even the cake?”

“Especially the cake.”

They were quiet for a moment, and Link let his eyes drift closed as he drew in the peace of the moment. He loved it when it was like this; just him and Zelda, relaxing and having stupid, meaningless conversation. It almost made all they went through last year worth it.

“So… hey. Get up. There’s something I want to show you.”

Link groaned, and Zelda jostled him roughly.

“I don’t wanna do my homework…” he whined pathetically, and she shoved him again.

“Well you have to, but it’s not about that. Pretty please get up? There’s something reeaaaaally important I want to show you, but you need to open your eyes.”

“Is there food involved?”

“Um… I have a granola bar?”

“Sold,” he answered, immediately righting himself and sitting cross-legged in front of her.

She blinked in surprise. “That was fast.”

“Never underestimate my hunger. Now, what is it you wanted to show me?”

An eager grin cracked across her face and she adjusted her position so she was mimicking him. “Ok, so, you know that I’ve been trying to work out how to use magic ever since the shooting, right?”

“Uh-huh…”

“And you know that I’ve never really had any success, right?”

“Uh-huh…”

“And you know that I’ve studied and read and done all the research I could into the old legends but they never tell you anything even remotely useful, right?”

“Zel, can we get to the part with the granola bar?”

“Look!” She squealed excitedly, ignoring Link’s desperate plea and, practically bouncing up and down in eagerness, held her hand in front of his face and snapped her fingers.

A swirl of dancing lights appeared above her fingertips and vanished a moment later.

“I finally got something! I don’t know what I did, or how I’m doing it, but it works! Is that not the coolest thing you’ve ever seen?!” Zelda gushed, her face pink with emotion.

“Um, yeah Zel, that’s super… weird.”

She slapped his arm. “Hey! What is wrong with you! This is the most exciting thing that’s happened in my entire life!”

“I mean yeah, it’s cool, but… I mean, what’s does it do?”

“What does it…? Well… nothing, I guess, but that’s not the point! Link, this could be the gateway to bigger discoveries! I mean, imagine what I can do with magic! What if I can cure cancer? What if I can predict earthquakes or stop wars or… The possibilities are endless! How are you not more excited?!”

“Do you think your magic can get me food?”

She stared at him in disbelief for a moment before dropping her arms with a disappointed sigh and reached for her bag. “You are unbelievable.”

“Love you too, Zel.”

She ignored him, holding fast to her angry face.

“You can just be so…” she said as she handed him the granola bar and he plucked it gleefully from her hand, but she trailed off before she finished her sentence, her eyes glued to his arm.

“Holy… Link, what happened to your arm?!”

“My what?” he asked through a mouthful of granola, but she’d already grabbed his hand and yanked it toward her.

There, on his elbow, was a sinister looking gash. He’d forgotten all about his fall, and as soon as he laid his eyes upon it, the wound began to throb with renewed vigor.

“Oh look.”

“Hold on, I’ve got something, just tell me what happened!”

As she began digging through her bag again and pulling out random odds and ends, Link crammed the other half of the granola bar into his mouth and began his explanation.

“Well… there was… this girl… and a car…. Ran the light… football tackle… hurt my arm… totally forgot… OW!”

“Stop being a wuss,” she muttered, carefully wiping at his gash with a Kleenex covered in hand sanitizer. "Did you say you forgot about this? How?! It's still bleeding! _And_ there are bits of gravel stuck in it!"

“Um… I dunno? Ow! Hey, be gentle!”

“Gods, you are such a baby…” Biting her lip, she tried again, this time with less force. “What happened with a girl and a car? I didn’t understand.”

“She almost got ran over and I had to tackle her out of the way,” he replied nonchalantly, still cringing over the stinging on his arm. Honestly, it hurt worse now than it did before she started…

Zelda stopped wiping and looked up at him in surprise. “You saved some girl’s life?”

“Um… yeah?”  He scratched at the back of his head uncomfortably.

There was a pause, and then she returned to treating his arm with a small smile on her face.

“Of course you did… Who was the girl?”

“Some new kid named Marin. It’s her first week or something. Oh, get this; she says she’s coming with us on the trip tomorrow.”

“Really? So… some new girl gets you hurt in her first week at school and you save her life. Should I be jealous?” She sent him a playful look to show she was kidding.

“Nah, she doesn’t carry granola bars on her person. We’d never hit it off.”

Zelda laughed as she peeled the paper off a Band-Aid and carefully placed it on his arm.

“Well, that’s a relief, I must say. And you are all done!”

She leaned forward and pecked him briefly on the lips.

“Thanks, Princess.”

“What would you do without me, Hero?”

“Die, apparently.”

Granny peeked her head around the corner of the door. “Hey, Zelda. Dinner’s ready, so you can tell that pathetic grandson of mine that he can stop whining now.”

“Hey!”

“Will do, Granny! We’ll be there in a sec!”

The older woman beamed at the blonde girl on the bed before shooting Link a threatening glare and vanishing back down the hallway. Link frowned; why was he always the one who got abused?

“So, carry me to the table?” Zelda asked sweetly, cutting through his thoughts.

Link rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide the smile on his face. “Din, you’re high maintenance. Remind me again why I love you?”

She scooted forward and slid her arms around his neck once he’d turned himself around. “Masochism, I’m sure.”

He laughed and hoisted her into the air, and the two headed down the hall to join Granny Hero.

* * *

“I mean, honestly. She’s got some kind of nerve.”

“Uh-huh…”

“Just sitting up there, smiling all prettily, flirting like there’s no tomorrow.”

“Yup…”

“She’s practically drooling all over him! Zelly, how can you stand it?”

“You bet…”

“…Zelda, are you even listening to me?”

“You’re right…”

The next thing Zelda knew, a petite hand entered her line of vision and snatched her book away from her.

“Wha- Hey! Midna, what are you doing?! I need to finish that book, I have a report due on it next week!”

If there was anything Midna Twili could be said to be gifted at, it was crafting looks of disdain.

"Zelda, do you not even care that some trollop is schmoozing your man?"

“Trollop? _Schmoosing?_ What year is this again?” she asked, laughing in spite of herself. “And really Midna, she seems like a nice girl and you know Link just has a ‘helping people’ thing. He’s just trying to make her feel welcome. Besides, he’s totally oblivious.”

As she said this, Zelda cast her eyes up towards the front of the Greyhound bus where the subject of the conversation, Link, was currently sitting near the new girl, Marin. It was true, Marin was being bubbly and flirting for all she was worth, but from what she could tell, Link wasn’t reacting to any of it. She wasn’t overly concerned; it’s not like they were alone together. Sheik was sitting beside Link, and Marin was with two other kids who Zelda knew were in the orchestra. Medli Wings and Makar something-or-other. She wasn’t in any danger of ‘losing her man’, or whatever Midna wanted to call it, and she trusted Link besides.

“That’s where it starts, Zel,” Midna began in a lecturing tone, “and then before you know it, they’re hanging out together, going to see movies, talking on the phone late at night, and then WHAM!” She punctuated her sentence by suddenly punching the seat in front of her. “...You’ve been replaced by the ginger airhead wonder.”

Zelda sent Midna an exasperated look. “Seriously, Midna? And what about your boyfriend? Not a comment about him sitting over there?”

Midna shrugged nonchalantly, the orange highlights in her raven hair bouncing playfully. “Oh please, who in their right mind would flirt with Sheik? He’s such an emo.”

Zelda rolled her eyes and snatched her book back, flipping back to the page she was on and settling back in her seat, hoping the din of dozens of loud conversations on the bus around them would drown out the rest of Midna’s words.

They didn’t.

“I hear he saved her life yesterday.”

“Yup. “

“That doesn’t concern you at all?”

“Link’s saved lots of people’s lives. Am I supposed to wish that he’d let her die?”

Midna huffed. “Well. If you’re not going to go take tabs on your boo, I’ll do it for you. That’s what best friends are for.”

“Don’t forget exaggerated conspiracy theories and preventing you from doing your homework…”

“By the way,” Midna added after she’d stood and adjusted her shorts and lime-green Maple the Witch shirt, “Heathcliff dies, Hareton and Catherine inherit Wuthering Heights and that Thrushcross place and get married, and the whole story is a boring, stupid waste of time. So ha. Suck it.”

Zelda kept her eyes clenched tightly closed and breathed slowly through her nose until Midna had walked away. Curse Mrs. Twili and her stupid book club… Not that she was overly invested in the story, but still. She didn’t like it when people ruined the ending.

Sighing, Zelda maneuvered herself so she was leaning against the window and was about to prop her legs up on the vacant seat beside her and continue reading when suddenly, it became occupied once again.

"Hey, Zelda," Colin greeted morosely, gazing blankly ahead of him at the bad argyle pattern on the back of the seat.

"Colin," Zelda replied curtly. She didn't want to be mean, but she wasn’t in the mood for conversation and she really needed to get her book read. But after a moment’s pause and a handful of wistful sighs from Colin, she gave in and gave the pathetic boy her attention.

“What’s wrong now?”

“The same thing that’s always wrong,” he muttered bitterly.

“Aryll?”

“Yup.”

“What’s she said this time?”

“Nothing. You know she won’t talk to me. It’s just… It’s Ralph.”

“Ralph?”

“Yeah. He’s decided Aryll’s the girl of his dreams or something and has decided to begin ‘courting’ her, or whatever he calls it.”

“Ralph is… ‘courting’ Aryll? Aryll Hero? Farore, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

"He's calling it his ‘Quest for Romance."

"Oh, light…”

“…”

Every time she saw Colin, she found herself flashing back to the boy she’d first met during the shooting. His eyes weren’t sunken in anymore, and he looked neatly dressed, as usual, in slacks and an off-white polo, but the hollowness in his eyes had never quite dissipated.

She’d heard the whole story from him, Midna, and Link; of Colin’s so-called betrayal, Ganondorf revealing the ‘truth' in front of Aryll, their confrontation in Ezlo's classroom, and finally Colin asking to be arrested. He'd even gone to Link to beg forgiveness and was promptly told off by Link for being an idiot, but the boy still hadn't gotten over it. The full story of what went down involving Colin miraculously never got out to the general public, and the only ones who knew anything were in Link’s personal circle. The only people who still held a grudge against Colin were Colin himself and Aryll… And Malon, though that was more of the obligatory best friend thing.

Common sense would be to tell Colin to get over her, but Zelda wondered how much of his grief was because of their breakup, as opposed to the ‘why’ of their breakup. Zelda liked Aryll, she was a sweet girl… but the situation between her and Colin was ridiculous at best. Somebody needed to slap some sense into them, but she didn’t think she was the one who should do it.

“How is Aryll dealing with it?”

“See for yourself.” He muttered and gestured ahead of him.

Confused, Zelda sat up and peered over the seat tops again in the direction of the front of the bus. She could see Midna sitting on Sheik’s lap, laughing with Link, seemingly succeeding in her goal of distracting him from Marin, who for her part seemed totally enthralled in a conversation she was having with Mr. Alfonso, the wood shop teacher. Across the narrow aisle and a few seats back sat Aryll and her group of friends, near the middle-back part of the bus. And standing beside them, leaning against the overhead shelving unit in his odd blue jacket with flaring sleeves and faded black jeans, stood _the_ Ralph Ambi.

“What are they saying…?” Zelda muttered, leaning forward and straining her ears to catch any wayward snippets of dialogue. It was difficult over all the babble, but she was pretty sure the conversation was going something like this:

“Aryll, my sweet, you mustn’t be shy. Go on, you may ask me out if you wish.”

“Alright. Get out.”

“Don’t be so quick to decline! You haven’t even considered what an incredibly devoted boyfriend I would be! I would give myself to you completely!”

“Sorry, I don’t accept cheap gifts.”

“I would go to the very ends of the world for you!”

“And yet you wouldn’t stay there…  What a shame.”

“Aryll, what must I do to win your affection?”

“For starters, you should probably stop with the lame pickup lines. I’m pretty sure you just stole those from Google. I mean, really, those lines are older than my grandma. You need to get your head in the game.”

“Aha!” Ralph cried out triumphantly, pointing his finger dashingly into the air. “Then you mean I must seek out wittier and more charming manners of introduction before returning to woo you once more! Fear not, my sweet, I shall return better prepared to conquer your heart!”

And with that, Ralph turned and began making his way back down the aisle back towards where he’d presumably been sitting, leaving a stymied Aryll in his wake.

After a few steps, Malon poked her head up over the seat and shouted, “That jacket makes you look like a rapist!”

The bus was flooded with scandalized laughter, and Vice Principal Nabooru turned from where she was sitting to fire a cursory warning glare. Malon quickly ducked back down again.

Smiling ruefully, Zelda turned back to Colin and said, “I really don’t think you have anything to worry about there, Colin.”

“That’s not the point,” he replied, exasperated. “I get that literally no female in the entire student body can take Ralph seriously when it comes to romance, but seeing Ralph go at it just sort of reinforces the fact that she’s… available, you know? I guess I just feel like I’m losing her all over again.”

Zelda sighed. After the shooting and their breakup, Zelda and Link had tried to include Colin into as many of their group hangouts as possible in an attempt to pull him out of his shell of misery and self-loathing, but it became difficult when Aryll flat out refused to show if she knew Colin would be there, and after a few public fights, they’d stopped trying to force it.

Colin, it would seem, had come to view Zelda as a sort of councilor and would come to her for advice whenever he was feeling particularly down. She didn’t really mind; he wasn’t her only friend who did so nowadays, ever since the Triforce incident. The only problem was, sometimes, even when she knew the answer, she didn’t know how to deliver it without offending the person or making the situation worse. Sometimes, people just weren’t ready.

Now was one of those times.

“Colin…” Zelda began, picking her words carefully, “You think that maybe it’s time that you accept the fact that you lost her and move on?”

Colin, however, met her words with a hollow, crushed look, and she sighed again. Clearly, he still wasn’t ready.

At that moment, another figure chose to appear in the aisle directly beside their seat. He was a tall, broad-shouldered, muscular boy with a large nose, a ridiculous pompadour, and a cheesy grin that made her queasy in all the wrong places. He also always wore rugby jerseys that were entirely too small for him, as if in an effort to make his muscles look bigger. His name was Groose, one of the new students who’d transferred to Ordon High at the start of the school year. And he had a massive crush on Zelda.

“Hey there, Zel,” he began, smiling in what he clearly thought was an attractive way. “This guy botherin’ you?”

Zelda took another slow, deep breath. She really should have brought some painkillers on this bus ride.

“Hello, Groose,” she replied in a strained voice. “No, Colin is my friend, he never bothers me. You, however…”

She added that last bit as a mumbled afterthought. Thankfully, he didn’t seem to hear her.

“Heh. That’s good to hear. So anyways, I was thinkin’… The trip from Ordon to Castleton bein’ eight hours an’ all, and with another six hours to go, you and I could maybe get to know each other a little bit more.”

Zelda felt revulsion wash over her but tried her best to keep it off her face. Groose was the captain of the rugby team; which is to say, he had an ego the same size as Darunia’s, with a quarter of the popularity. He also didn’t come across as being very bright, which was odd, because she was told he was a genius in woodshop and physics class, though you would never hear that from his mouth. He was also one of the few students who didn’t take the strict ‘No Bullying’ policy at Ordon High to heart, probably because he hadn’t been involved in the Massacre the year before, having lived somewhere in the north.

Still, just because he was unpleasant didn’t mean she had to be unpleasant to him… though it was a strain sometimes.

“No, Groose, that’s ok. As you can see, I already have company, and we’re sort of in the middle of a conversation, so if you could just…?”

“Ah, come on now Zelda, don’t be like that. You can’t just shoot a guy down without givin’ him a chance!” He delivered, as though pre-rehearsed, with his cheesiest grin yet. His goons Cawlin and Stritch, whom she’d just noticed standing behind him, nodded at each other as if in congratulations. Had they planned his response to her inevitable rejection…? They’re so weird!

To her surprise, Colin spoke up. “Groose, I think the lady just told you no. It would probably be better for you to back off now before she has grounds to file a harassment complaint. And anyway, you know full well that Zelda’s dating Link, so you might as well stop trying.”

Groose’s face grew dark as he turned his attention to Colin.

“I don’t remember askin’ for your opinion, pipsqueak.”

“Hey!” Zelda snapped, losing her patience and jabbing her finger at his face. “ _Don’t_ talk to my _friend_ like that!”

Groose’s head snapped up, looking very much like a hurt and confused dog, and just as Zelda was gearing herself up for a shouting match, a calm, controlled voice cut in from somewhere behind Groose and his goonies.

“Um… is there a problem here?”

All five sets of eyes turned their attention to the newcomer. Zelda felt a relieved smile split across her face; it was Link, looking about as confused as ever as he took in the five faces one by one.

“No, Link, everything’s fine, Groose just came to ask me a question. He was just leaving.” She said the last line a bit forcefully, and Groose, catching on, scowled at Link and Colin before jerking his head and stalking off back down the aisle towards the back of the bus.

Colin shot Link a grateful look and immediately hopped to his feet, offering her boyfriend his seat, which he took with thanks, and Colin headed off towards the front of the bus to sit by Sheik and Midna.

“Everything ok?” Link asked, looking at Zelda quizzically. “You look stressed.”

With an unattractive growl, Zelda let her head flop down on Link’s shoulder for a moment and said, after taking a deep breath, “Why does everything have to be so complicated?”

“I dunno, Avril, why don’t you tell me?” he replied, reaching into the front pouch of the seat before him and removing his iPod and a package of Gardettos.

“It’s just… first Midna was bugging me, then Colin had to come and complain about your sister, whom, by the way, is currently the romantic interest of one Ralph Ambi, the pick-up line failure of the century, and as I was trying to convince Colin to man up and get over his heartless ex, no offense, I love your sister, Groose decides to show up and start picking on Colin and flirting with me, simultaneously, and I can feel a headache coming on and honestly the only thing I want to do is finish reading this stupid book so I can get that homework assignment done.”

“…Ralph has the hots for my sister?” Link asked, bemused.

Glancing up at him wryly, Zelda leaned forward, pecked him on the cheek, and said, “Stay the way you are.”

“Roger that,” he replied, popping more trail mix into his mouth.

Zelda sighed and sat back, opening her book once again to the correct page, and prepared herself to begin reading, when it was once again plucked unceremoniously from her hand and shoved into the pouch of the seat in front of her.

Zelda took a calming breath and tried to quell the rage tearing through her chest.

“ _Link…_ ”

“Zel, this is a field trip. We’re here to relax and have fun and take our minds _off_ school.  Besides, I happen to know that Midna already ruined the ending for you, and in any event, it isn’t even due until Friday. You can put aside your obsessive need for earning brownie points from your English teacher for one weekend so we can relax and have fun together. This is for your sanity. Listen to me, I’m only doing this because I care.”

Zelda’s glare could have peeled the tinted lining off the windows of the bus, but Link, it seemed, was impervious to death rays. Grinning cheekily, he offered her one of his headphones and said, “You’re about to lose control and we’ve got another six hours of this bus ride. Take a nap.”

Sighing in resignation, she accepted the earpiece and while she fitted it into her ear, Link adjusted the armrest so she could lie down against his side. As she settled down, she couldn’t help the small smile from forming on her face.

“…I don’t have an obsessive need for brownie points.”

“Sure you don’t.”

* * *

Two figures met on a lonely dune in the middle of the vast Gerudo Desert.

One, proud and strong, stood defiantly atop the dune, the sunlight illuminating the simple white of his v-necked T-shirt and casting shadows along the tears in his jeans. The dirt swirled in eddies around his heavy combat boots, but other than ruffling his scarlet hair and silver dog tags at his collar, he remained unaffected by the wind.

The other approached the high dune from its shadow, advancing toward the man with cool decision, his footsteps plodding calmly and methodically. His garb was dark, and his face impossible to discern in the shadows.

The second figure stopped a few feet below the ridge of the dune whereupon the first remained standing. The two regarded each other for a moment in silence.

“You are not a hard man to find,” spoke the second in a surprisingly young voice.

The first said nothing, merely regarding the second in silence.

“I have come here bearing news you may wish to hear.”

Again, silence.

The second man continued. “It would seem that you have been searching for-“

“I know you.”

The voice of the first man was deep and powerful, as vast as the very desert in which they stood, and his words seemed to startle the second, making him fumble momentarily over his words.

“I… I am not who you think I-“

“I am aware,” said the first, cutting off the second once more. “Your presence differs from his, yet I could feel you approaching.”

The second seemed to frown. “I am not here to serve you.”

“Then why have you come?”

There was silence for a moment, and the second seemed to regain his footing.

“They say you are dead, you know.”

The larger man stayed silent.

“They say you died that day, and nobody suspects a thing. Strange, that… how you managed to fool them, nobody the wiser… and yet, here you are, hiding in a desert rather than seizing your advantage. Is the once-great king frightened of children?”

“Tough words from a man who cannot leave the shadows,” the first rebutted calmly.

“Hmm… Or can it be that you are not hiding? Is it, perhaps, that you are searching for something? Something you believe will tip the scales in your favor?”

The man on the dune said nothing, but his eyes narrowed as he examined the man in the shadows. Sensing he’d struck gold, the second man seemed to grin.

“What would you do if I told you I knew where lies the object for which you seek?”

“Why ask a question for which you know the answer?”

The second figure nodded. “Wise. Not your attribute, and yet you wield it cunningly. Perhaps we are not always doomed to repeat history. Very well; the strength you seek lies in Castleton, guarded with the rest of what remains of Hyrule’s once great history.”

“Why come all this way to tell me this if you are not to serve me?”

The shadowy one smirked. “Let’s just say… an enemy of my enemy… You are not the only one headed to Castleton, King of Thieves. The Hero and the Princess make their way as we speak. The timing is ripe for you to exact your revenge.”

“And if I am not to trust you?”

“Well, then the pieces remain where they lay, and the wheel ticks on. Perhaps in your next life you’ll have another chance… or the next… or the next… or the next…”

Laughing the laugh of a younger man, the shadowy figure departed, fading into the distance until the mirages carried him away, but still the first remained on the ridge, watching as the sun slowly slid down the horizon.

At last, as half of the sun was eclipsed by the earth’s surface, Ganondorf turned and strode away, anticipation building in his chest.

_It is time once again, Hero…_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Thanks for reading, and welcome to the first chapter of my newly-revised telling of the sequel to 'Hit List', 'From the Dust'. 
> 
> Much like with HL, I will be posting new chapters of FtD once a day until we arrive at the story's conclusion. Unlike HL, however, I have not yet finished revising FtD, which is why I don't have a set number of chapters listed yet. I'm still working on revising the ending, but expect there to be somewhere around 35 chapters in this story. 
> 
> Also, while both this and HL are revised versions of the original stories that I have posted on FF.net, I have made much more dramatic changes to this version of FtD than I did to HL. For the most part, this simply means that I cut out a lot of content in an attempt to both shorten and streamline the original story (which used to be over 500,000 words long), but it also means that I have rewritten the plotlines and scenarios that some characters find themselves in, as well as completely changing the finale. It's taking a lot more time and effort than cleaning up HL did, but I hope you can enjoy the final product. 
> 
> To those who have never read this before, welcome! To those who may have read the original years ago, welcome back! 
> 
> And to everyone, Keep it Zesty. 
> 
> ZC


	2. The Tales They Tell

A brisk morning wind snagged the ends of Zelda’s hoodie, chilling her in a flood of frigid air and forcing her to draw her arms around herself protectively for warmth.

At her side, Aryll hastily drew her own hood up and tugged on the drawstrings until the only part of her face showing was the tip of her nose.

“Why does it have to be so cold in Castleton?” she whined, huddling closer to Zelda and Midna to conserve her body heat.

“Oh, suck it up,” Midna grunted absently, leaning forward to examine the curio stall in front of her with greater interest. “Be grateful it’s April. Imagine doing this in January.”

“Ugh, don’t even go there…” came Saria’s muffled voice from off to the side. She, too, was examining the stall, looking adorable with a bright green beanie jammed on her head and a heavy brown winter coat on that she’d drawn up over the lower part of her face.

“I wish they’d hurry up and open,” Aryll grumbled, and Zelda drew an affectionate arm around the younger girl, which she returned gratefully. “Why’d Auru make us show up so Din-blasted early if they aren’t opening the doors until eight?”

“Probably just to make sure we’d all get here on time, in case of delays. Besides, it’ll open up in a couple of minutes and I’m sure it’ll be warm and toasty inside,” said Zelda bracingly. Aryll gave a wistful sigh.

“Warm… Toasty…”

“Ooh!” squealed Malon from the other side of the cart before racing around to meet them. “Lookit! Look what I found! Isn’t this just so _cute_?!”

Zelda scrutinized the plushy object she held clasped in her hands critically.

“It’s… a chicken.”

“Not just any chicken! This is a Lon Lon Cuckoo! Goddesses, I used to play with these little critters all the time when I was a kid!”

“She’s from Lon Lon,” came Aryll’s reply to Zelda’s confused look.

“Ahh.”

“I think I’m gonna buy him.” Malon continued with a decisive nod.

“That’ll be fifteen rupees,” came the voice of the owner of the curio stall, popping his odd-afroed head around the shelves and grinning eagerly.

“Wow,” Saria mouthed, a disapproving look on her face. Saria was ever the proponent of careful spending.

As the girls wandered back toward their classmates, talking absently about nothing as teenagers do, Zelda took in the surroundings. The morning was brisk and gray, with non-threatening clouds clogging the sky. The students of Ordon High had been rousted from their beds around six o'clock that morning in order to ready themselves, load onto the bus, and get to the museum before it opened. They arrived sometime around seven-thirty and had been told by Auru and the other chaperones that they could wander the square in front of the museum for a bit to examine the stalls, but that they weren't to go far.

There was already a sizeable crowd in front of the museum’s entrance. The Hero of Time was a massive part of Hyrulean history, and of the Hylian Alliance itself, actually, and nobody, no matter where they were from, wanted to miss it. The museum, in order to pull in larger crowds and therefore earn more money for the faltering historical society, had gone all out with the displays, redesigning rooms and entire wings of the museum to reflect particular aspects or themes of the various legends, or even sometimes the legends themselves.

To say Zelda was anxious to go inside was more than an understatement, but she felt like she was controlling herself well. Link, on the other hand, had remained by Auru and Nabooru’s sides near the front of the museum, talking animatedly with the two and practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. Honestly, he could be like a big child sometimes….

The square in front of the museum was fairly jam-packed with people eagerly awaiting the opening; so much so that you could barely see the red-bricked flooring below them. That didn't stop various curio stalls and food vendors from setting up shop in the surrounding area, selling everything from overpriced souvenirs to overpriced coffee and hot chocolate to ward off the cold.

Shoving their way through the crowds since it was nearly time for the opening, Zelda was finally able to see Colin and Sheik clearly towards the back of their group of classmates when a sudden screech split the air.

Starting in surprise, Zelda found herself mimicking the crowd around her, spinning on the spot in confusion, trying to find the source of the noise

There was a break in the crowd in the direction of the main street and out of the masses burst forth two little kids, sprinting towards the museum doors as fast as their little legs would carry them, looks of sheer terror on their faces. From behind them, shoving his way through the throngs of people came a third figure, this one an adult, who pelted after them as quickly as he could on his short, pudgy legs.

Before Zelda's mind could process the scene correctly, the man, who was clad in a skin-tight, full-body spandex suit of the most abhorrent green and a pair of too-small red swimming trunks, opened his mouth and let out another screech, only this time Zelda realized he was shouting something.

“ _Fairies!_ ”

“What?”

“Oh my…”

“What is he _wearing?!_ ”

Before she had time to think, the two kids came rocketing past her, screaming their little heads off. The one in front, a blonde girl and, by the look of her, no older than seven or eight, was clinging to the arm of a shorter, pudgy boy and dragging him along behind her; the boy, who had blackish-violet hair, couldn’t have been older than four. The girl’s face was a mask of tear-filled panic and determination. The boy simply sported a comically adorable look of abject horror.

The man who was pursuing them was gaining fast in spite of his gut; he had a crooked face with a rather horrendous and bulbous red nose, complete with a wart below his lower lip and squinty eyes. He looked to be in his thirties, though maybe that was just the weird scraggly goatee, and he reeked of something like a mixture of urine and alcohol as he sped by her. Most likely, he was homeless.

The homeless spandex man was almost upon the kids when they decided to change directions at the last minute, veering off towards a hotdog stand at the corner of the plaza; the man followed after them but was impeded by a stranger in the crowd who tried to intervene and seize him. With remarkable acuity, he broke free of the man's grip and continued on, shouting the word "Fairies!" again and again, and the crowd began pushing back to get away from him.

As the two kids leaped behind the hotdog stand, the owner let out a yelp at their sudden intrusion and attempted to ward off the crazy homeless man with another shout and a brandished hotdog weenie. But the man quickly lost his courage as the psychopath drew nearer, finally chucking his hot dog at the hobo and abandoning his post, leaving the two quivering kids cowering behind his rotary cooker.

As the man drew nearer, the older girl pushed the boy behind her and flung her arms out wide in a protective stance, her whole body trembling with fear and tears pouring down her hysterical face.

Zelda charged forward, only to be seized from behind by a pair of hands.

“Zel, what are you-?”

“The police are gonna-“

“Those are children!” she exploded angrily at Saria and Aryll, but before she could get another word in, a second green-shirted figure joined the party.

It was Link. How he’d gotten there so quickly she wasn’t sure, but he hastily positioned himself between the homeless man and the two quivering children and held up his hands in a calming manner.

“Whoa, hey, sir, you need to calm down-“

“Fairies!” he blurted out again, his voice shrill, surging forward in an attempt to brush past Link and the hotdog stand, only to be fended off by the teenage boy. The kids screamed again.

“They’re not… Fairies don’t… Look, there aren’t any fairies around here, ok? These are just kids and you need to back off!”

The man, who was preparing to charge again, suddenly stopped and stared, entranced, at the front of Link’s shirt.

"What… but… A green shirt…" He slowly turned his head up to face Link, who took a cautious step backward.

“Um, are you…?”

“But sir, surely you must be a fairy too!”

“A what?”

“A _what_?” echoed Aryll at Zelda’s side.

“Oh man…” said Midna, a grin forming on her face.

“No, no, there aren’t any-“

"Mr. Fairy! Mr. Tingle has been searching ages for you!" And with that, the portly man leaped forward and glomped Link, tackling him to the ground.

The children started screaming again as Midna and the rest of Zelda’s friend burst into uncontrollable laughter. Zelda moved as though to go to Link’s aid, but Mr. Auru and Mr. Alfonso were at his side in a flash, pulling the deranged lunatic off her boyfriend and holding him back, even as he continued to cry, “Mr. Fairy! Oh, Mr. Fairy! I have found you!”

The police finally managed to push their way through the crowd; two of them relieved Zelda’s teachers of their charge with gruff words of thanks, while a third went to Link and the kids.

Midna had collapsed on the floor, gasping for breath, and there were tears running down Aryll’s cheeks as they continued their laughter.

“Oh… Oh… Din, did you…. D-did you see that?!”

“ _I always knew Link was a fairy!_ ”

Grumbling, Zelda finally abandoned her friends and headed over towards the hot dog stand, passing the homeless man as she went. She caught his eye as the police dragged him off, and, wagging his feet, he exclaimed what sounded like, "Tingle Tingle Kaloo-limpah!”

Shaking her head, she jogged the last few steps and arrived just in time to hear the officer finish what he’d been saying.

“… thing you did, but a little foolish. Still, thank you for protecting the children.”

“It was nothing,” Link said quickly, brushing the matter off in traditional Link fashion. Sighing, Zelda hurried forward.

“Link, are you ok?”

“Hey Zel, I’m fine! Think I may smell a bit though…” he joked lightly, tugging his collar up and giving it a sniff with a playful grimace.

Zelda ignored him. “How are the kids?”

“Tatl! Tael!” came a loud shout from behind them, and they turned to see a tall, wispy, elderly man arrive on the scene.

“Oh, my children, do forgive me…” the man panted as he finally caught up, placing his hands on his knees and wheezing. “I told you not to panic, but you simply ran off and I could not keep up with you…”

"Excuse me, sir, you know these children?" asked the officer.

“Yes, officer, forgive me.” The man straightened and offered a hand. His voice was slow and somber, like a funeral home director. “I am Charlo, director of the West Road Orphanage. These two children are under my care.”

 _Orphans?_ Zelda thought sadly, turning away from the sallow, bearded man to look at the kids. The girl, who appeared to have calmed down a bit (though perhaps it was just for show), was hugging the boy, who was still wracked with tremors. She met Zelda’s gaze with a fiery, challenging one of her own despite the tear tracks still evident on her face.

“Do you know how all of this mess started?”

“It was an accident, sir. We are poorly funded and have few volunteers, and these two love to slip away. They got lost in the crowd, and…”

As the man explained to the officer what had happened, Zelda turned her attention to the gaggle of children who had just arrived in the company of another supervisor. The two kids behind the hotdog stand quickly got to their feet and hurried to join the others. One of the girls quickly ran to give the smaller boy a hug, but the blonde girl was met by a wiry older boy in a black skull t-shirt.

“Ha! Did you see that? You two got chased by a smelly fatso!” he teased in a sing-song voice, doing a mocking little dance.

“Hey!” yelled the blonde girl, suddenly livid. “Don’t make fun of my brother!”

“I’m not, stupid! I’m making fun of _you_!” he cackled maddeningly.

“Then _shut up!”_

“ _Make me_!”

“Children, please stop fighting,” murmured the supervisor to no effect.

As the two geared up to throw it down, Charlo turned back to the group, wiping at his face with a handkerchief that he swiftly tucked back into the pocket of his suit coat. “Right. Well. We must be off if we’re to see this museum before lunch. Tatl, Tael, if you two or anybody else runs off alone again, I’m taking you all back to the orphanage immediately. Questions? No? Good. Tatl, Tael, please say thank you to the nice young man for helping you.”

The cute, pudgy boy turned his still tear-filled face toward Link and mumbled a quiet thanks, nervously avoiding eye contact. Tatl, however, scowled and turned away, crossed her arms in defiance.

“ _Tatl…_ ” Charlo said in a warning tone.

“I didn’t need his help! I can take care of myself!” she exploded angrily.

“Tatl!”

“It’s ok, Mr. Charlo,” Link chuckled, shooting the girl a grin. “She was doing a pretty good job until I interrupted.”

The girl’s face flushed red, but she stuck her tongue out at him.

“Well, I never…! Oh, very well. Thank you again, lad. We’ll get out of your hair now.”

As the group left, the oldest of the kids, a girl around the age of eight with short periwinkle hair, turned around and shot Link and Zelda a shy smile.

The couple turned to face each other.

_Smack!_

“H-hey!”

“Will you stop getting yourself into trouble?!”

“I- what?!” Link blabbered, confused, but Zelda was already stalking off toward the front of the building where the rest of her classmates were gathering.

“Dude, Link, classic,” chortled Sheik, draping his arm around his best friend’s shoulders when they’d finally joined the others.

“Aw, Link! You made a new friend!” Aryll chimed in, punching her brother bracingly on the arm.

“What? Did we miss something?” came Colin’s voice from off to the side as he and Ralph approached. Aryll calmly turned and left the group without saying a word, heading toward Saria and Malon.

“Nah, Link just bro-hugged a hobo. Nothing new.”

“Cut it out, guys.”

“Oh hey, I think it’s time.”

Turning her attention to the front of the plaza, near where they were standing, Zelda could see Colin was right. There was a short staircase before them that led to the large double doors of the deceptively vast Museum of National History. The building looked to be two or three stories tall, though it only had two floors, and the front wall was made up of glass panes that shimmered in the morning sunlight.

 

“Everyone, stay together until the atrium!” came Auru’s call through the confused tumult as they excitedly hurried up the steps towards the building. “I need to say a few things before I let you all disperse!”

Zelda lost Link in the rush up the stairs, but she didn’t really mind; it was impossible for everyone to stick together in that mass of people. Finally reaching the top, Zelda squeezed her way past the doors and got her first look at the atrium.

It was huge. Thousands of mismatched tiles made up the flooring in various shades of red, blue, and green. There was a semi-circular welcome desk to the right side of the door where she could see Auru and Nabooru hastily speaking with the receptionist, as well as three hallways branching off into different sections of the museum – one to the left, one to the right, and one right in front of her. They had signs hanging over them; one said ‘The Lost Woods’, and another, ‘Death Mountain’, and the third, ‘Gerudo Desert’. Across the atrium stood a staircase leading upwards with a sign that said, ‘This way to the Sacred Realm’.

The most eye-grabbing thing in the room, however, was a massive fountain set in the very center with a beautifully carved sculpture of what was unmistakably a Great Fairy. Her head was bowed, wings extended, hands held aloft with their palms up as though in prayer, and her long hair covered her nudity above while a simple skirt covered her down below.  Near the basin of the fountain was a sign stating that all donations would go to the Hyrulean Historical Society.

The only other objects of note were the black security booth located next to the entrance, the window of which you could see from outside the building, and a large map of the museum that illustrated where everything was beside the reception desk.

Zelda hurried toward that.

Trying her best to memorize the outline in order to better plan her and Link’s day, she found her level of anticipation and excitement only skyrocketing further as she read about the rooms. Every display they had centered on elements or themes from the many, many legends, and to make it easier, they’d divided them between the separate rooms. So the room on the Lost Woods taught about the region’s history and its peoples, and then explained all about the many legends and myths about that particular part of the country. They had rooms about the woods, Death Mountain and Snowpeak, Zora’s Domain, Lake Hylia, Kakariko, the Gerudo Desert, Lon Lon, the Sacred Realm, and Castleton itself, including Hyrule’s Royal Castle.

There were sections on everything from weaponry to civilizations to mythological creatures, and an exhibit on the Waker Islands. There was even a room dedicated to a bunch of masks that had been generously donated for the event from Termina. She was so excited, she could nearly burst. An entire museum, dedicated to her and Link’s past… If there was anywhere she could find answers, it was here.

“Alright, everyone! Gather ‘round, we need to go over some things!”

Zelda regretfully tore her gaze away from the map and went to join Auru and the rest of her classmates near the fountain.

“Ok, here’s how it’s gonna go – you’re all free to roam the museum as you see fit. You’re all good kids, and I trust you. Don’t do anything stupid or touch anything that you’re not allowed to touch. The chaperones will be walking around, keeping tabs on you, just to make sure, and remember: no leaving the museum. Lunch, as we said, is on you – they have a cafeteria up on the second floor, so eat when you get hungry. We’ll report back here at four for a special treat before heading back to the hotel, alright? Any questions?”

“I have one,” came a clear, high voice from across the atrium.

A man stepped forward from where he’d been examining the group from behind the reception desk; he had neatly combed orange hair and pointed ears with eyes that seemed to permanently squint. His hands he kept clasped together in front of him, as though he was nervous about giving a speech in front of a crowd, although he gave no such impression in the tone of his voice. He wore dark slacks and an odd lavender dress shirt with a golden collar. There was something distinctly bizarre about the man, but Zelda couldn’t exactly put her finger on what it was…

“Where are you from?” the man continued with a grin, and Auru, looking a tad discomfited, answered.

“We’re from Ordon High School.”

“Ah, yes!” the man exclaimed delightedly, stepping closer to the group and bobbing slightly in what might have been short bows, “I had heard there would be a school party here today!”

“Um, I’m sorry. You are?” Auru asked with strained politeness.

“Oh, forgive my intrusion – I am Mr. Happy, the museum’s curator.”

“Mr.… Happy?” Auru asked, taking in the man’s grin with a dubious expression.

“Yes, quite. I am the curator here at the Museum of National History. We’re quite pleased to have you all here.”

He extended his hand to Auru, who shook it briskly, and the man offered him a tiny bow. That’s when it hit Zelda; the man never stopped grinning.

“Well! Off to explore the wonders and legends of our noble country’s fascinating history, are we? Yes, yes, that is excellent. Well, I bid you all a good day – ah, but a word of counsel first, if I may…”

There was something about the way the man talked, or perhaps in his mannerisms, that had captivated the entire class’s attention. Mr. Happy let his gaze sweep the group, taking them in one by one, before beginning to speak.

“Our history speaks to us,” he intoned solemnly, slowly pacing as he faced the students, though never once wavering in his grin. “It cries as one from the dust, raising a silent voice of warning…” Zelda could have sworn that his eyes lingered on her, and she shivered. "There is much we could learn if we but listen…

“I advise you, today, as you enjoy your time exploring the past, to think deeply on the lessons they convey. Pay careful attention to the stories of the Hero, my children... You never know when you may need them.”

He paused once more, scanning the students as though gleaning information from the words of a book, before bowing again and heading away.

Nodding slowly, a puzzled look on his face, Auru turned back to the cluster of students and chaperones and said, “Well… alright, you’re free to go. Have fun!”

And like that, the bubble burst, the strangeness fled away, and the students immediately began rushing off in different directions.

Zelda felt a smile wash over her face, shaking off the oddness of her encounter with Mr. Happy. Finally, the moment was here… Time for her and Link to meet their pasts.

Hurrying through the quickly dispersing throng, she cast her eyes about for her boyfriend, eager to set off and get their journey started. She saw Sheik and Midna disappear around the corner headed towards the Lost Woods room. Darunia and Ruto were hurrying toward Death Mountain with Miss Astrid hot on their heels, likely intending to keep an eye on them. Aryll was disappearing with Saria and Malon, Mido trailing close behind, Colin vanishing with Ralph, Auru heading off with Alfonso, and she still couldn’t find Link. Finally, she spotted him beside the fairy fountain, talking to the new girl Marin and her two orchestra friends.

“Hey!” she greeted cheerfully, hopping beside him and grabbing his hand. “Ready to go? I know you want to start in the forest, but are you sure we can’t head to the castle first? I mean, I really feel like it makes more sense-”

“There you are!” Link exclaimed playfully, nudging her shoulder. “And here I thought you got impatient and ran off without me!”

“Believe me, I was tempted.”

“You do me so wrong…”

“Oh hi! You must be Zelda!” Marin exclaimed loudly, tilting her head to the side and offering an energetic wave. “I’m Marin! Link’s told me so much about you!”

“He has, has he?” Zelda asked, shooting Link a wry look.

“Only great things,” he replied casually.

“Yeah, you sound so cool! I’m so excited that Link’s letting me hang out with you guys today!”

“He’s what?” Zelda asked, feeling like she just got punched in the stomach.

“Oh, right! So hey, Marin’s new here and doesn’t really have anybody to hang out with, and I figured she could join us for the day. Get this – she’s from Koholint! That’s pretty close to Outset, where me and Aryll grew up! I was thinking we could head over to the section about the islands first, and go ahead and get that out of the way. What do you think?”

Marin had already engaged herself in a conversation with the other two teens present and wasn’t paying attention to her or Link anymore, so Zelda seized the opportunity to snag Link’s sleeve and drag him a few feet away.

“Link! What are you doing?” she hissed angrily, and Link blinked.

“Um… nothing?”

“You’re inviting other people into our moment! This is supposed to be you and me exploring our past lives together! I thought it was going be just us! We can’t exactly share this with random strangers!”

"Oh, yeah, I know!" he said quickly, clearly confused over why Zelda was upset but trying to appear on top of things. "I know I said that, and we will – we have two whole days to explore this museum, Zel. I just figured we could explore some of the less-important rooms first to make the new girl feel more included. We can go visit the castle tomorrow. Why can’t we go with her now? I kinda already promised…”

Zelda stared at her clueless boyfriend in frustrated silence. He wasn’t getting it. She could tell by his face, he wasn’t getting it. It wasn’t about where they went and when, but that they went together – just the two of them, the Hero of Time and the Princess of Destiny, to discover about their pasts. She didn’t want anyone else there with them when they did that; not Marin, not Sheik or Midna, not anybody. That was like unearthing an unknown box of old wedding photos and going through them with some random girl rather than your wife. Who did that?

Not that she was Link’s wife, of course, but the point was the same.

Still, she couldn’t tell him that. Not here, not in front of everybody. She took a deep breath and tried to reign in her anger and disappointment.

“Are you mad?”

“No.”

He looked doubtful. “Zel, if you want I can tell her that we can’t do it…”

“No, Link, just… You go ahead and go with her. I’ll go join the others until you’re done.”

“What?!”

“Go, it’s fine. I’ll see you later, ok?”

Before he could answer, she turned on the spot and stalked off, trying her hardest not to storm. She wandered blindly, not really paying attention to where she was going, vainly attempting to suppress the seething pot of anger that was boiling inside of her.

Was it wrong of her to be mad? Looking at it analytically, she knew Link meant no harm by it. It’s not like he was replacing her like Midna kept saying; she trusted him and knew he would never hurt her intentionally… But maybe that was the problem. Not what he was doing intentionally, but unintentionally. Link just wanted to help out the new girl; he was always like that, always trying to help other people, ever since he’d given that speech last year calling his classmates to action. She knew he felt like he had to do his part to live up to what he’d said. Or maybe it was more than that – ever since he’d gotten his part of the Triforce, he’d been trying to live up to the legend.

But why did that mean that he had to put her behind others? Why did that mean that the one time she wanted to do something with him, something that was special between him and her that could never be shared between any other two people in the history of the world, she had to take the back seat?

She didn’t blame Marin. She didn’t hate Marin. But if she was being honest, she was a little jealous of Marin. And that probably hurt worst of all.

Shaking her head ruefully, Zelda tried to calm down. _It’s fine, everything’s fine… he’s just being the Hero like he always is, like he was yesterday with the car, and today with those kids… it’s who he is, literally. You know this. Just calm down. He promised he’d come and find you when he’s done, and he’s right, there are two whole days of this – we definitely have enough time._

Zelda stopped walking and took a deep breath. Yeah… that didn’t work. _Well, guess it’s time to find the others and wait until he’s done._

Only… when she cast her eyes about her, she realized she was lost somewhere in the woods section, surrounded by people she didn’t know, with no familiar faces in sight.

“Great,” she muttered bitterly, turning around and searching for her classmates. “Come on, there’s gotta be somebody…” No sense in wandering the museum alone; then she’d only feel more pathetic.

With a jolt, she saw a face she recognized through the crowds and grinned… only to blanch and began backpedaling as fast as she could when she realized who she was staring at. It was Groose, and he was headed her way.

She quickly turned and made as though to run and hide in the next room and immediately slammed into someone. She fell back onto her butt with an ‘oof!’ and winced, feeling mortification flood through her, only adding to her bad mood.

“Ow! Ooh… I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t mean to-“

“Zelda? Zelda Nohansen, is that really you?”

Glancing up owlishly, Zelda found herself staring into the handsome face of the last person she expected to see.

“ _Kafei Dotour_?!”

“Yeah! What’s up, buttercup?”

With a grin, he offered her a hand and pulled her to her feet.

“Sorry about running into you like that,” he laughed, placing a hand on his hip and grinning charmingly in traditional Kafei style.

“No, it was my fault, I… Kafei! What are you doing here?!”

"Me and Anju took a day off classes over at Kakariko University and came to see the mask exhibit; did you know that Anju's a mask freak? She's crazy about them. Go figure. Personally, I think it's a little creepy, but… Hey, where's Link?"

“Oh, uh, he… He’s with some friends. He’s gonna meet up with me later.” A wave of anger washed over her again, but she forced a smile all the same. Goddesses, was she going to focus on this all day?

“So… you all alone?” he asked, brows knitted in confusion.

“Seems that way…”

"Well, that's not right. Link's failing at this boyfriend thing." Zelda inwardly agreed with the purple-headed male but didn't comment. "Don't worry; I'll knock some sense into him later. You wanna hang with me and Anju in the meantime? You don't even have to play third wheel; we've brought her friend Cremia along for the ride. You two can make fun of how adorably perfect me and Anju are to your hearts’ content.”

Zelda giggled; Kafei never got old. “Yeah, that sounds awesome! Where are they?”

“Waiting in the other room. We saw you walk through and she sent me to get you. Such a slave driver…”

“You love it, and you know it.”

“Guilty as charged...” He sighed playfully, and she laughed.

“Well, lead the way?”

“After you, Zelly-poo!”

* * *

Midna stood before the painting with her hip cocked to the side, one arm resting akimbo, the other dangling uselessly in the air. Sheik stood beside her, both hands in the pockets of his skinny jeans, elbows cocked out behind him and a bored look on his face. The two of them had been standing there staring at the picture on the wall for a good five minutes now in complete and total silence.

“Yeah…” Sheik finally said, brushing his lanky hair away from his eyes and proceeding to scratch the back of his head, “I don’t get it.”

“What’s not to get? The picture’s pretty straight-forward.”

“I dunno, Mid. I mean, look – the Hero’s clearly running away from the monster. Look, he’s got his horse pointing in the other direction.”

Midna examined the painting on the ancient leather canvas a little more critically. “Maybe he’s taunting it?”

“How? By pooping out triangles?”

“That was immature.”

“Tell that to the artist. Look, the dude’s totally pooping out a triangle.”

“I think you may be interpreting this a little too seriously…”

“I think his horse has smoke-vision. He’s totally firing clouds out of his eyeballs.”

“Aaaand I think we’re done here.” Midna sighed, rubbing her eyes tiredly and brushing her hair back behind her ear.

“I wish I had a horse that farted polygons and could summon the rain with his eyes…”

“Come on, babe. You’re starting to scare the children,” she said, snagging his hand and dragging him away. Sure enough, there was a boy no older than six who was staring at Sheik with his mouth hanging open. His mother shot them a dirty look as they passed.

As they walked down the stairs from the Sacred Realm hand in hand, Midna felt another yawn escape her mouth.

“Dude, this is boring.”

“Oh, come on,” Midna retorted dully. “You know Link and Zelly really wanted to come, don’t go raining on their parade.”

“They’re not even here. They’re probably off making out in the section about ancient weddings or something.”

“Probably. But hey, there’s gotta be something fun here for us to do too.”

“Like what?”

“Wanna go and join them?” Midna flashed a flirtatious wink over her shoulder at her boyfriend as they reached the ground floor and began walking randomly in the direction of one of the hallways.

Sheik quirked an eyebrow. "By that, you either mean A: Do I want to go make out _next_ to our two best friends, which would be super awkward, or B: Do I want to go make out _with_ our two best friends. And I gotta tell ya, Link looks like the slobbery type.”

“Yeah, that’s for sure…” Midna hummed in agreement.

They entered the hallway leading towards Death Mountain and continued their aimless wandering. Smiling to herself, Midna hooked her arms behind her head and examined her boyfriend critically out of the corner of her eye.

The past year had changed Sheik. He was still the cynical pessimist he’d always been, but he was both brighter and darker than the boy she’d known before the shooting. He laughed more, got out more, helped out whenever Link needed it or Midna complained enough.

And yet in spite of all the positive things about his new life living with Link and dating the most amazing girl in the world (she being unbiased, of course), there was still that omnipresent shadow behind his smiles, the one that hung in the back of his eyes no matter what she did. She knew he still hadn’t gotten over the shooting; one year wasn’t very long, after all, but she wished she could do more to help. If anything, the year had only given his guilt time to fester inside of him. Still, she knew her, Link’s, and Zelda’s nearly constant presence was helping more than she could ever understand; without their support, she wondered at times if Sheik would still be around…

Midna shook her head roughly, shaking off those thoughts. There had been enough death in her life already. No need to fill her imagination with it too.

After the shooting, her mother, who was your typical suburban housewife, had decided that she needed to spend more quality time with her only child; apparently, children are a precious resource or something, and she wanted to reap it for all it was worth. In order to do so, and as a requirement her parents had set in order for her to date Sheik, she was forced to join her mother's book club. She resented it wholeheartedly at first, going into full-blown drama mode in an effort to escape what would surely be a soul-sucking, happiness-killing, mind-numbing waste of two hours a week, but all of her efforts were in vain. Her friends were less than sympathetic, and before long she found herself dragged along to their first meeting.

To her surprise, she actually _enjoyed_ book club. Two hours of free food while trashing sucky literature and praising the good stuff? It even opened her up to some new things; like, who even knew old books were good? English class had clearly done her wrong. Agatha Christie was the shiz, as good ol’ Mrs. Seres said, and who knew Frankenstein wasn’t the name of the monster?! Crazy stuff!

She’d toned down her wardrobe after that first meeting, too, but still kept to her rocker-side, if only to irritate her parental units a smidge. Like now, for example: her classic black tank top was paired with the same faded, ripped jean shorts she’d been wearing the day before on the bus in spite of the chill of the morning air (she was a trooper, and the cold never bothered her anyway). She also had on several bracelets and a few piercings in her ears, a black choker, her favorite combat boots, and the white and black checkered hoodie she’d been using outside had been removed and cinched about her waist. As for the hair, she’d just thrown it back in a messy ponytail, as per usual, with a few orange-dyed strands hanging in front of her face. She liked to keep things simple.

After a minute’s walk, they wound up at an intersection.

"So, which way, captain?" Sheik asked. From his tone, she could tell he wasn't too invested in the outcome of her decision.

“What’ve we got? Hmm… On one side, Death Mountain; a place that sounds super metal but in reality probably just talks about rocks and mining.”

“And dragons,” Sheik offered. “I’m pretty sure there’s a picture of a dragon in that history textbook we didn’t actually read.”

“You mean the one who looks like a drag queen?”

“Yup. I’ve named him ‘Bowie’ for short.”

“Ok. So do we go see Bowie the magic dragon on the mountain of Death, or… go down this adjacent hallway to see music?”

“You can’t ‘see music’, Mid, it’s something you have to listen to.”

“Yeah, shut up. So which is it?”

“I vote Bowie the magic dragon. Music sounds lame.”

“True dat,” she agreed, and the apathetic couple moved as though to continue on their leisurely stroll until an unexpected person exited the music hallway and entered their line of sight, stopping them short.

“Nayru above…”

“Hey, is that…”

“ _Linebeck?!_ ”  they exclaimed in incredulous unison.

The pot-bellied ex-janitor turned at the sound of his name being called and gave the two teens a blank once-over.

“Well, would you look at that, Sparkles is here,” he said blandly, his voice as gruff as ever.

Midna scowled in annoyance. “My _name_ is Sparky – I mean, Midna. You know I don’t like it when you call me that.”

“Yeah, whatever. So what’re you and the boy emo wonder doing all the way here in Castleton? You playin’ hooky? Not the most romantic of venues, but hey, who am I to judge?”

Linebeck, it would seem, hadn’t changed at all. Same lanky salt-and-pepper hair, same red nose, same long, sallow face obscured behind his stupid five o’clock shadow. He was sporting what passed as a two-part mustache and ragged goatee combo, and his hairline seemed to be retreating, though admittedly it seemed better kept than it had been when he was a single janitor. All in all, he looked like an older, less-attractive, discount Captain Jack Sparrow.

After the shooting, he’d quit his job as a janitor at Ordon High and had moved away, taking Jolene, the one-time assistant to Coach Nabooru who’d been smitten with him ever since his surprise heroics in the gymnasium. Midna hadn’t heard anything about him since.

Judging by his black slacks and white button up and the wire she could see dangling from his ear, he seemed to be working at the museum. But did janitors wear earpieces?

“We’re here on a school field trip, Linebeck,” Sheik said, giving the older man a brief once-over. “What are you doing here?”

Rather than answering his question, Linebeck went stiff, his eyes wide with fright. “You… You said… t-the school is h-here?! Today of all days, the school is here?!”

Midna winced, and not just because his voice had cracked at the end of his sentence; yeah, that probably wasn’t a very pleasant revelation to receive, that the school where you once worked and had nearly been shot in had decided to have a field trip and followed you to your new place of residence on the anniversary of said shooting. Deciding to intervene before the older man had a conniption and died of heart failure, Midna spoke up.

“Relax, Linebeck. It isn’t the whole school. There’s over fifty of us, but it’s mostly Link and his friends. You know, the kids who helped out at the end of the… thing.”

“Oh… Ok, then…” Linebeck panted, collapsing against the wall and clutching at his heart. “I guess… I guess I can… handle that… If the Kid’s here, then… At least it’s not one of those maniacs who started shooting up the school in the first place-“

His eyes flashed to Sheik, who’d grown stiff at his words, and then back to Midna. She was glaring at him with all the hatred she could muster. He cleared his throat gruffly. “Right. Well. Um, well that’s good news, like a family reunion. Yup. Just dandy…”

An awkward silence enshrouded them for a moment, with Linebeck looking terrified and Sheik likely angsting behind his bangs. Midna took the liberty to change the subject.

“So why are you here, Linebeck?”

He started in surprise, then clenched his jaw, feeling stupid for having done so. “I work here now. I’m a security guard.”

Midna’s eyebrows quirked upward. “Really?  They think you’re responsible enough for that? You can’t even keep a floor clean, how are you going to keep track of hundreds of priceless historical artifacts?”

"Haha, you’re a riot, Sparkles,” Linebeck deadpanned, and Midna bared her teeth at the use of her pet-name. Really, where did he get it from? The orange highlights in her hair? The name didn’t even make sense! “I’ll have you know, being a security guard’s actually pretty simple. Just a lot of camera watching. Besides, being the hero of the Ordon High-“ His eyes flickered to Sheik, then back, “…um, thingy… it looks pretty good on a resume.”

“ _You_ aren’t the hero of anything,” Midna grated in irritation. Honestly, this man just dug himself deeper and deeper… “ _Link_ is. And so are we,” she added the last bit for Sheik’s benefit more than anything else.

“Hey, I saved those kids in that gym _and_ drove them all to safety!” Linebeck shot back, incensed. “I have as much of a right to be called a hero as you do!”

“He’s right, Midna,” Sheik cut in, his voice neutral, and Midna deflated, biting back her retort. “He has a point.”

“That’s right!” Linebeck said, nodding emphatically. “Listen to the emo, he knows his stuff.”

“Ugh,” Midna said in disgust, “honestly, I don’t see why Jolene sticks with you, you’re insufferable.”

Linebeck’s face flushed scarlet and he adjusted his earpiece, mumbling something that sounded like, “That’s what she’s always telling me…”

“What was that?”

“Nothing! Look, I ain’tya around, Sparky. Emo.”

“It’s Sparkles! I mean… Gah! I can’t stand you!” Midna screeched, tearing at her hair, but the older man simply stalked off, grumbling to himself.

“Cool it, Mid, he’s gone,” Sheik said softly, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“Grrr, that man just gets under my skin and… Bah! Whew… Ok, ok, I’m good, I’m…” She turned from her mini-explosion, ignorant of the weird looks she was getting from concerned passers-by, and faced her boyfriend, examining his eyes crucially.

“You ok?”

“What? Yeah, why wouldn’t I be ok?” he asked, his face and voice the perfect mask of polite, innocent confusion, but Midna knew better. She also knew better than to pry unless he was willing to talk, so she let it slide for now.

Stupid Linebeck and his stupid comments about the stupid shooting…

“Alright then, come on. Bisexual dragons await us,” she replied, tucking her hand in his and dragging him down the hallway.

However, a few steps down something else caught her eye, grounding her to a halt.

“What?” Sheik asked, following her gaze. “What is it?”

The hall was ending into a room that opened up into the exhibit about Death Mountain, but she could see another hallway branching off to the side, this one labeled ‘Kakariko and the Shadowfolk.” Something inside her stirred, and for the first time that day, she was excited.

“Come on! There’s something we need to see!” she exclaimed, hurrying forward, still towing him along behind her.

“I-what? But what about dragons?!”

“We’ll have time for dragons later! For now, just follow me!”

Giggling like a psychotic schoolgirl, which she supposed she was, Midna dragged her complaining boyfriend down the remainder of the hallway, around a corner, down another hallway, past a room full of paintings of rock people, and into the museum’s tiny makeshift Kakariko Village. The far side of the room which contained another entrance was full of model houses and examples of how the people of that era used to live; in other words, it was boring. The side they had appeared on, however, was devoted to…

“The Sheikah?” Sheik asked, an odd note to his voice.

“Yeah!” Midna exclaimed excitedly. “This is the cool stuff! Shadows and the undead and dark magic and assassins! The Shadowfolk are the coolest!”

Not waiting for him to follow, she darted ahead and began looking at the exhibits. When Sheik finally joined her a moment later, she was reading a plaque beside a large stone tablet bearing a large bleeding eye.

“Looky here, Sheik! It says, ‘ _This symbol marks the spot in Kakariko Village where it is believed the sacred Shadow Temple once stood; in this temple, the Shadowfolk tortured and killed enemies of the Royal Family, as well as performed their dark necromancies…_ ' Sweet."

Sheik didn’t answer. Midna read a little bit further.

“’ _It is not known for what true intent the Shadowfolk were to use their ‘Shadow Magics, but the peoples of that race were bitterly persecuted as witches and heretics in the centuries that followed that fall of the last monarchy. The culture remained strong late into the twelfth_ _and thirteenth centuries, until almost all black magic practices were abolished…’_ Dude, the Shadowfolk are so cool. I wouldn’t mind being of Sheikah descent, but I think I’m only Twili. The two are supposed to be closely related though, so I don’t think it really matters…”

“Being Shadowfolk is a curse, not a blessing, Midna,” Sheik murmured softly.

Midna shot her boyfriend an odd look. “Um… huh? What is that, reversed racism I’m hearing? Aren’t you Sheikah? I mean, the name, the eyes, the complexion…”

“Yeah, I’m a Sheikah. My whole family was Sheikah. And a fat lot of good it ever did us,” he spat with unexpected venom, and Midna slowly raised her eyebrows.

"Um, ok. Hold the ponies there, Admiral. Since when have you had a problem with the Shadowfolk?"

“Since… It’s not… Look, we’ve just had a crummy run from the start. Back in the day, we were the Royal Families slaves, and then we got persecuted for being their slaves, and now look at us!”

Midna looked around. “Uh… at who?”

“The Shadowfolk!”

“Hun, the Shadowfolk are treated just fine now. At least two of Hyrule’s ministers are Shadowfolk. Really, I don’t get what your deal is; that was hundreds of years ago. And I thought you hated your family?”

“Yeah, well… just… forget it, ok? Can we leave now?”

“I… guess?”

She cast a regretful eye around the room at all the cool Shadowfolk architecture and displays and caught a glimpse of the Book of Mudora sitting on a glass case not too far away. She groaned.

“Do we really need to go?”

“Yes. Please.”

She groaned again. “Fine… Let’s go then. I’ll just come back here later with somebody else who doesn’t have repressed issues that they won’t talk to their girlfriends about…”

He didn’t answer.

As they left the room, Midna took one last look backward and something caught her eye. There, across from where they were, was a third entrance that led, presumably, to the Desert section. Back against the wall, she could barely make out what looked to be a large, circular mirror. 

Midna sighed dejectedly. Why is it the only cool stuff in the building she wasn’t allowed to see? The things she did for her idiot…

* * *

“Like, oh my Din!” Aryll squealed excitedly.

“What was that that just came out of your mouth?” Saria asked, mortified, as Aryll skipped across the room.

“I knew I was rubbing off on her,” Malon stated proudly.

“Sweet Farore on high…”

“Guys, look… at this…” Aryll gasped, her face and hands pressed up against the glass of the display case, staring at the object in fervid admiration. “It’s adorable…”

"Um… Isn't that an ax?" asked Mido, clearly confused.

“I think it’s a hammer,” Saria responded, stepping up next to Aryll.

“It is…” She sighed longingly. “A hammer that looks like a skull…”

“And… skulls are adorable now? Isn’t that a little morbid?”

“You don’t get it, Mido,” Malon answered, putting an arm around his shoulder bracingly and adopting a lecturing tone. “Aryll has a weird skull fetish. She’s had one ever since middle school. It’s just a bizarre, twisted part of her that you have to learn to love and accept.”

“Why else do you think she wears that skull t-shirt all the time?” Saria laughed.

“Um… because she has a bizarre fashion sense?”

“You know who had a great fashion sense?” Aryll sighed, finally pulling herself away from the hammer. “The Hero of Time.”

“Oh boy, let me tell you,” Saria sniggered. “Those tights were totally dashing. Hot stuff right there.”

“I thought he went commando…” Mido said, scratching at the back of his head.

“Now that _would_ be hot.”

“Malon!”

“Anyway, I’m bored!” the energetic ginger exclaimed, throwing her hands into the air. “We’ve been in here for like, an hour! You two have had your fun in the forest, can we go to the part about Lon Lon now?!”

“Not yet!” Aryll exclaimed emphatically, and Malon groaned. “Sorry, love. We’re going in order, and next up is… The Outer Isles!”

“What?! Aw man, there isn’t even anything cool in the outer isles…”

Aryll shot her a death glare.

“What? You know it’s true, other than the beaches, and it’s not like there’s gonna be any beaches here.”

“She has a point… about the beaches, I mean,” Saria corrected hastily as Aryll directed her gaze toward her.

“Well, you are all about to put your rupees where your mouths are, ladies! … and Mido! Because we’re going to the Islands right now, and you are going to be in awe!”

“More like the sheer disappointment is going to make us say ‘aw,’” Malon joked, and Aryll playfully shoved her into Mido, who didn’t complain.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, shut up. Hurry up and let’s go!”

The four friends began casually making their way toward the exit, heading vaguely in the direction they remembered the wing about the Islands being. As they walked, they took time to examine random stalls or exhibits and talk about random teenage nothings. Aryll could admit she was actually having a lot of fun, and she knew her friends were too, despite how Malon might be acting.

Honestly, the only downside was the presence of two certain males, but they weren't near her at the moment, so she could live with it.

They'd decided to check out the section about the Lost Woods first because there was something there that interested everybody present. Saria and Mido both apparently had ancestral lines that tied back to the area of the Kokiri Woods, and there was a cool scale model bust of the mythical Great Deku Tree made of paper mache that they’d all taken pictures with, as well as a model tree house that they could walk inside that fairy children, the Kokiri, were said to have lived in. They even had hats for the kids that had glowing balls on the end that were supposed to be your ‘fairies’. Saria had convinced the cute guy working there to let her have one despite her age and it now sat twinkling on her head.

The best part about the museum was all the magic; in history classes at school, they’d mention the legends and myths but then would go off on long tangents about how scientifically speaking, none of it could possibly be true, and then try and explain using logic what might have actually happened, and what they came up with was always anti-climactic. The museum didn’t do that – they explained the actual facts, and then went full on 110% on the magical side. It was amazing and made Aryll feel just like she was a kid again.

Maybe that’s why she was so eager to get to the part about the Islands… She missed her childhood home and wanted to see if the museum could kill some of her longing; it hadn’t failed her yet.

Still, she was a little sad she didn’t get more time to admire all the skull masonry in the Lost Woods; she really did think it was super cool. And that picture she took by the Skeleton Warrior? Totally her new phone background.

The troop finally left the Lost Woods section and found themselves lost in the atrium again. They spun around in circles for a moment before Saria reminded them that the section on the Outer Islands was upstairs. Taking the steps two by two, they raced up to the second floor and bypassed the Sacred Realm (because, as Malon said, heaven comes last), and found the corridor headed towards the Islands.

Just before arriving, they passed a doorway that led to a large, open room whose walls were lined with hundreds upon hundreds of masks.

“Whoa…” Mido said, slowing to a stop. “What on earth…?”

“Oh hey, this must be that display from Termina they were talking about,” Aryll commented idly, giving the room a curious once-over.

“Dude, do you think the masks really have magical powers, or-“

“Goddesses, look who it is!” Saria cut in, pointing to the far end of the room. Following her finger, Aryll’s eyes rested upon the long, purple-headed physique of none other than…

“Cremia!”

“What?” Aryll asked, confused, but Malon shoved passed her and ran into the room, giggling emphatically.

“She’s talking about the red-head standing next to the blonde over in the corner. She’s her cousin from… wait, is that Zelda?”

“Oh hey, yeah!” Aryll threw up her arm and waved at her brother’s girlfriend energetically. Zelda caught her eye as Malon full-body tackled her cousin and smiled back.

“Wait, but where’s your brother? I thought they were spending the day together.”

Aryll gave the room a brief once-over. Aside from Zelda, Malon, and Cremia on one side, and Kafei and what appeared to be Anju examining a pure white mask on the other, there wasn’t anybody she recognized in the room.

Shooting Zelda a quizzical look, Aryll mouthed, ‘ _Where’s my brother?’_

In response, Zelda shrugged despondently. At another confused look from Aryll, Zelda offered a quick shake of her head. Apparently, she didn’t want to talk about it right now.

“Seems like there’s trouble in paradise…” Aryll mused quietly.

“What was that?” Saria asked.

“Nothing. So, we going in?”

“What do you think?”

"Hmm…" She gave the room another look over. It seemed like all it really had to offer was masks; sure, some of them looked pretty cool, like the skull one against the far wall, and this dark purple heart-shaped mask with spikes on the edges that was encased in its own special glass case beside a simple human faced mask with what looked like white hair and red and blue tribal paint on its cheeks. Those ones were pretty sweet. All in all, though, masks were kinda creepy.

“Yeah… I think we can give this room a pass… it kinda freaks me out.”

“Yeah, me too,” Saria said with a relieved laugh.

“Hey, aren’t those the two kids your brother saved this morning?” Mido chimed in, pointing into the room.

“Where?”

“There, by the wall.”

Sure enough, a cluster of seven children stood huddled together by the wall next to this glittery woman’s mask with long, sparkling hair, ignoring their older caretakers and taking in the room in apparent boredom as they pestered one another.

“Poor kids, forced to hang out with creepy masks.”

“Well, I’m out. You staying, Mido?”

“Yeah, I’ll keep Malon some company until she’s ready to join you in the Outer Islands room.”

“Alright. Later, lover boy!”

“He’s hopeless,” Saria commented as they left the mask room behind and proceeded on towards the Outer Islands.

“Aw, I think his crush is cute,” Aryll said in defense of their freckly male friend.

“It would be if he didn’t also have one on me and was trying to simultaneously woo us both,” she grumbled murderously.

“So the boy has aspirations. Why can’t he dream big?”

“I so hate you right now.”

Aryll laughed. “Whatever. Islands, ho!”

And with that triumphant shout, the two girls turned the corner and Aryll stopped short with a groan.

“Well, now!” came the snide voice of one Ralph Ambi as he stood leaning against the false wall of a pirate ship, grinning at Aryll and Saria. “You really ought to watch your language around the children, Aryll. You can’t just go around calling your friends prostitutes in public!”

“Ralph,” Saria said stiffly, “please go away.”

“Go away?” he exclaimed in horror. “After waiting here all this time for you to show up?! Never! If my lady will not have me woo her in our carriage or the castle, then I must dazzle her with my charms upon the open seas!”

“Oh boy…”

“You do have to admire his persistence, though.”

“What carriage?”

“I think he means the bus.”

“Remind me not to visit the Castle exhibit then.”

“Aw man, I was actually looking forward to that.”

“Ralph,” Aryll said, trying to keep her cool as she addressed the perpetually blue-coated boy. “Believe it or not, you’re actually the second-to-last person I want to see right now and you’re kinda ruining my trip. Can you please leave?”

“Second-to-last?” Ralph exclaimed, a look of delight on his face. “Moving up in the world, I see! Well, well, I knew you were beginning to warm up to me, dearest Aryll!”

“Oh, for the love of-!”

“Dude, Ralph, check this out! I found you a present-!”

Around the corner of the pirate ship came the figure of a blond-haired teen with cloudy gray eyes, wearing of all things an eye patch and a fake hook, and carrying a telescope. He stopped dead when his eyes (or eye) landed on Aryll, and the stupid childish grin slid off his face.

“Oh.”

Aryll clenched her fists and took a slow, calming breath.

Ralph took in the telescope held limply in Colin’s hand with a resolute frown. “I don’t find this humorous.”

“Neither do I,” Aryll grated darkly. “Ralph. I don’t know why you thought it was a good idea for the two of you to wait for me here, and I don’t want to know-“

“Whoa!” Colin said hastily, waving the hook and the telescope in the air defensively. “That’s not-! I wasn’t-! Aryll, I had no idea this was why he wanted to wait here so long-!”

“Alas, it is true!” Ralph declared dramatically. “Foolish Colin was none the wiser of my true plans, which is to say, using him as a measuring stick to demonstrate unto you what a fine figure of romance and manliness I truly am.”

“What did he just say?” Saria whispered disgustedly to Aryll, but she wasn’t paying attention.

Colin had a thunderous look on his face. He smacked at Ralph’s arm with the telescope, causing the ginger to yelp in pain. “Are you freaking kidding me right now?!”

“What?!”

“Dude, seriously, back off my girlfriend-!”

A white-hot flare of rage exploded in her chest.

“I’m _not_ your _girlfriend_ , Colin!” Aryll snarled, and Ralph let out a snort of laughter.

“Haha! You were just soundly told-!”

“And _you_ don’t have half a chance in _Subrosia_ with me, Ralph!”

He promptly shut up, looking offended.

“I don’t need your constant signals, Ralph, it’s never going to happen so just _back off!_ And you!” She jabbed her finger at Colin who looked genuinely terrified. “I _don’t_ want you trying to protect me! I’ve _never_ wanted you trying to protect me! What is wrong with you that you still haven’t gotten that through your head yet?!”

Her one-time ex-boyfriend’s mouth gaped open and closed like a fish, a crushed look in his eyes, but nothing came out.

Aryll’s whole body was trembling and she could feel frustrated tears starting to form in her eyes. Stupid Ralph and stupidly bringing stupid Colin into stupid everything…

“Just… Just leave me alone, alright? Seriously.”

Trying to ignore the choked way her voice sounded, Aryll spun on the spot and stormed off, heedless of the strange looks people were giving her and only vaguely aware that Saria was hurrying along in her wake.

Looks like she wouldn’t be reliving her childhood after all.

* * *

“You’re looking a little excited there.”

Link felt a grin split across his face as he turned to face his favorite teacher, Mr. Auru.

“Got me,” he laughed. “Today was just so cool, and… well, I guess I’m kinda freaking out a bit that we’re going to the _actual_ Sacred Grove. You didn’t tell me this was on the schedule!”

Auru beamed proudly. “Well, I wanted to surprise you. It’s a bit of a treat for me as well; it’s been years since I’ve been down here to see it. You know, there really isn’t another blade like it in the world. For all the weird looks I get being a history nerd, Hyrule really has one of the most fascinating of pasts.”

“True story.”

Link and the rest of the class waited outside an old, rundown stonework building in the mossy outer garden. Apparently, the way the Sacred Grove worked was that only one group of visitors could enter at any given moment. The group, depending on their size, was gifted a certain amount of time to explore the Sacred Grove and visit the site’s main attraction: the legendary Master Sword. The next group in line waited in the outer garden, where they were currently situated. The site itself closed at sundown, and up in the north at this time of year, the sun set around seven.

It had taken longer than expected to gather everybody up and travel to the site, which was about an hour away from the museum, and Link had been terrified that the grounds would close before they arrived. As it was, they only had about fifteen minutes left before it did; they’d had to do some haggling to get a group as large as theirs was in before they shut the gates.

While they waited, Link stayed by Auru up near the front of the line, leaning against the cobbled, moss-covered wall, along with Professor Ezlo, one of the chaperones and Link’s old English teacher, and a few underclassmen. The rest of his friends were seated around the garden on boulders or benches or sitting under the trees, chatting away.

The first day at the museum was amazing. Link had spent the day with Marin, Medli, and Makar, exploring the sections on the Outer Islands, music, the masks from Termina, different swords and weapons, legends of the Hero from Holodrum and Labrynna, Gerudo culture, and the Picori. He’d tried to keep away from the more crucial sections of the Hero’s tale, like the forest, the mountain, the lake, the cities in the sky, and the castle itself, though he wondered if there’d even be time to cover all of that tomorrow with Zelda.

Still, he’d had a really good time, even if all his usual friends weren’t with him. Every single mention of the Hero made his heart leap with excitement and he almost felt like he half-remembered the things he was reading. Every legend, every reconstructed scene, every artifact allegedly connected to a past life made the back of his hand tingle, and at times he had to recheck his glove to make sure it wasn’t shining again.

And Marin, Medli, and Makar were actually really cool; he’d had a lot of fun exploring the Islands with Marin and reliving their childhoods, Makar knew a surprising amount about the Picori, and Medli… well, Medli wanted to go and visit the section on Kakariko’s graveyard, but Link stayed away from that to save it for Zelda. They had fun trying on the fake masks though; there was a picture on her phone of her with a bird beak, Makar with a leaf over his eyes, and Link with a golden mask that made him look like a fancy skull. He had no idea how he hadn't ever interacted with them before today; they were newer students as of this school year, but he had a feeling they'd end the year as pretty good friends. Zelda would really like them. 

Speaking of, he wished she’d just stayed with them today. Try as he might, he couldn’t help the constant nagging that something had been missing, and he knew exactly what it was.

“So Link,” Auru asked, drawing him out of his reverie, “what was your favorite thing you saw today?”

“Hmm… Probably the Legend of the Triumph Forks.”

Auru barked out a laugh. “You actually believe they exist?”

He shrugged. “Why not? They have magical flutes, magical bags, magical sticks, magical bottles… why can’t they have magical cutlery?” 

“Fair point.”

“What about you?”

"Me? Well, I was just disappointed they haven't opened up the section of the King of Thieves yet. It's supposed to be spectacular."

“Meh, it’ll be open tomorrow.”

“True… but the Triumph Forks were really your favorite part? You know that’s probably just a mistranslated legend, right?”

Link grinned. “My favorite part is about to happen, actually.”

“Ahh, I see…”

With a rusted creak, the gate swung open to reveal an elderly, balding man with a respectably-sized beard, white as the snow. His name badge read ‘Rauru Luz, Curator’.

“Mr. Auru, was it?” he asked in a grandfatherly voice. “You may gather your students together and enter the Grove. Please remind them to use their inside voices and to refrain from roughhousing.”

“Nothing to fear, Mr. Luz, they’ll be on their best behavior.” He offered Link a conspiratorial wink, and when the man’s back had turned, he whispered, “It’s like he thinks you’re all crazy mid-schoolers…”

As Auru went to gather his peers, Link remained at the front of the line, bouncing animatedly on his toes. He knew he was being a little silly, but he couldn’t help himself. He was about to see a sword, HIS sword, the one thing that could relate to him in every one of his past lives’, the one thing that belonged indisputably to the Hero of Time… The Master Sword, the Blade of Evil’s Bane, his eternal counterpart… his other half…

At that moment, a soft voice seemed to whisper through the breeze, tickling his hair and rustling the leaves as it passed.

_…your other half…_

Link placed a steadying hand on his temple and frowned, but it was like cupping water with his hands and before he could truly grasp it, the thought trickled away. Troubled, Link shook himself and focused. No time to be distracted – this was the single most exciting moment of his life, and he couldn’t afford to miss it.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of students awkwardly shuffling into line and hushed whispers and giggles, Auru marched back to the front of the line and led them into the grove.

Just past the gate, they had to walk through an old stone walkway before arriving at the actual grove. They passed a few suits of armor, a few paintings and models of shields and scabbards that were hung on the walls, but Link paid them no mind; a focused energy was coursing through his body, and he wouldn’t, couldn’t, allow himself to be distracted now.

Turning the corner, they left the makeshift walkway and entered the ruins of the grove, and Link felt his breath catch.

There it was, sitting on a raised platform, the old, weathered, moss-covered pedestal that bore his sacred blade: The Master Sword.

The blade itself was a dull silvery-grey, weather-beaten and dulled through the centuries. The cross-guard had lost a bit of its luster, the purple-blue faded with time, and the handle seemed to have lost the grooves that formed its grip. And yet in spite of its worn-down and dulled appearance, there was a quiet dignity about the old weapon; it gave off the vibe of a sleeping lion. Do what you would, but its power remained ever dormant within.

Before he knew what he was doing he’d stepped forward, his hand half-raised with every intention to grasp the handle and pull the blade from its bed. Luckily, he’d managed to catch himself and stepped back, flushing slightly and feeling spooked. _Come on, Link, control yourself…_

The grove itself was beautiful; the grass was neatly trimmed, but as for the rest it gave off the feeling of being wild and untamed. Collapsed rubble from ancient stone walls formed a rectangular box around the grove where the inner room of the temple had once stood that guarded the blade. The occasional moss-covered boulder lay strewn in the grass from where a pillar or two once stood, and you could see the remains of a large wall behind the pedestal, with what appeared to be a door or sculpture embedded in it at one time but was now completely faded away. A gentle, shadowy light filtered down from the dying sun through the branches of numerous trees that stretched overhead. All around, the song of birds could be heard, and the occasional squirrel darted through the area, avoiding the human intruders.

As Link stared, enraptured, Mr. Luz walked to the front of the group, examined them all with a warm smile, and then began to speak.

“Welcome, children, to the Sacred Grove. For untold centuries, this hollowed land has sheltered perhaps the most sacred and important object in the history of our great land; the Master Sword. Blessed by the three goddesses, Din, Nayru, and Farore, this Blade was gifted to the peoples of Hyrule to defend the holy land from the powers of evil.

“The Blade is best recognized as the constant companion to the Hero of Time; with it, the Hero has struck down the Evil King time after time, era after era, millennia after millennia… And even now, the Blade sleeps on, awaiting the hand of its Chosen Hero to call forth its power once more in defense of his people…”

Link was hanging on every word, captivated. From behind him, he thought he heard somebody whisper, “Dang, they go all out for the tourists, don’t they? He makes it sound like it’s real…”

“Now!” Mr. Luz continued, changing from his solemn, respectful tone to one that was light and jovial. “We’re short on time, so we’ll need to be quick. You are all invited to approach the blade, one at a time, and attempt to draw it. Flash photography is allowed, but please be respectful to the wildlife and those waiting behind you. There are a lot of you, so we’ll need to move quickly.”

“What?!” Link blurted out, caught off-guard, but his question was lost in the tumult of his classmates pushing forward eagerly to touch the sword.

“What?”

“We actually get to touch it?!”

“This is so cool! I’m sending my boyfriend a snapchat!”

As the rest of the teens shoved their way forward, Link hung back, feeling terrified. They were letting you try and pull the sword?! What sort of horrible idea was that?! What, was there no respect anymore for historical artifacts?! He couldn’t pull that sword! He couldn’t pull it because he _could_ pull it! It’d come right out of the pedestal and then what?! Everybody would know he was the Hero of Time! This was a nightmare!

Trying the best to summon his innate ninja skills, Link skulked backward towards the wall, hoping the shade and the failing light would hide him despite his bright green shirt and khaki pants.

From the side, he heard Auru speaking to the curator of the Grove.

“People are allowed to touch it now? That’s certainly different…”

“Recent change in policy,” Mr. Luz grunted sourly. “Not my idea. Personally, I think it’s an affront to our nation’s history, but it certainly does draw in the younger crowds, and I suppose in the end it always comes back to money…”

Up ahead of him, Darunia was striking a dramatic pose while resting his hand on the pommel, his girlfriend Ruto squealing and taking pictures on her phone.

Still skulking in the shadows, Link began slowly inching towards the hall they’d come from, hoping to find a bathroom he could hide in.

Mr. Luz continued his diatribe. “Honestly, the sheer lack of respect… Well, I suppose it won’t be coming out, but still…”

Sheik took Darunia’s place by the sword, shaking his head at the silliness of it all, but he grasped the handle all the same, and at Midna and Aryll’s requests, he flicked his hair back and flashed them his most ridiculous grin, laughing at their hoots and catcalls.

 

“Hey! Link! What’re you doing way over there?! Get over here and take a picture pulling this sword! This is the moment you were born for!”

Link flinched. _Din blast you, Midna, and your overly perceptive ocular nerves…_

“Link!” his little sister cried elatedly, bursting from the crowd and seizing his arm. “Come on, this is so cool! The ‘Hero’ of Ordon can’t run away from a sword!”

“Aryll!” Link squawked indignantly as his little sister began pulling him towards the sword. “Stop! Wait! No, I don’t-!“

“Come on, Link,” Sheik laughed, snagging his other arm and helping Aryll tow him along. “If I had to do it, you have to do it.”

“But-but-but-but-!“

“No buts, Hero boy!” Midna cried savagely from her place on the altar, looking a great deal like a deranged religious leader before her thriving throng of cult members. “You are putting your hands on this pointy stick, and you are going to like it!”

Link’s friends in the crowd let out a raucous cheer, and Link felt his stomach drop out. In desperation, he cast his mind about for a back door.

“Well- Wait! I-I mean, what about all the germs?!”

“The what?”

“Link. Shut your face and come on.”

“But… The others were in line first!”

“There’s no line.”

“But-!”

“Link, why are you freaking out?”

“He probably thinks the sword’ll come out or something. Dude’s head is fatter than Ruto’s father.”

With a grunt, he was shoved forward to stand next to Midna, who grinned up at him wickedly, placing one of her boots on the sword pommel and resting her elbow on her knee.

“Your sentence has been delivered, Hero,” she intoned dramatically, and he heard Marin snigger hysterically from the crowd below. “Your fate… You must pull your sacred blade to best the beast!”

“Um…” he sweated nervously. “What beast?”

“Cthulhu the Elder God!” she roared into the heavens to the delight of their classmates.

“Down with Lovecraft!” Sheik added from the crowd.

“Freedom!” someone else added in a lilting accent.

“Look, guys, really, I’m fine, I don’t need to…”

“Pull the sword!” Malon shouted from somewhere down below. Her cry caught on.

“Pull the sword! Pull the sword! Pull the sword!”

“Come on, Link! Hurry up, my arm’s getting tired!” Aryll laughed, holding her phone aloft, her finger poised to capture the photo.

The easy thing to do would be to simply put his hand on the pommel and pretend to draw… but he knew he wouldn’t be able to resist. Even now, he could feel that sinister part of him begging to reach out and grasp the handle. And that was the last thing he needed to be doing in front of all his friends poised with cameras and phones with internet access.

In the sea of faces in the crowd, Link’s eyes landed on Zelda. He felt relief break out inside of him; if anyone knew what to do, it was her. Shooting her a pleading look, he hoped to see her come up with an easy solution.

He wasn’t expecting for her to glare at him coldly and say, “What’s wrong, Link? Pull the sword.”

 “Yeah! Listen to your better half! Grab the blade and slay the beast!” Midna cried delightedly, and the chant continued.

“Pull the sword! Pull the sword! Pull the sword!”

Utterly baffled, Link tried again just to make sure Zelda hadn’t misunderstood his look of desperation, but her façade didn’t crack. Lost, Link prepared himself for the entirety of the world he knew to come crashing down around him.

“Alright, alright, enough!” bellowed a loud, irritable voice from the entrance to the grove. Glancing up, Link found himself staring at the face of his unlikely savior, Mr. Rauru Luz.

“Miss, if you please, remove your shoe from the blade.” Midna complied with a pout. “As for the rest of you, the site is now closing. Please head towards the exit with your chaperones and thank you for visiting the Sacred Grove!”

“Aw man! Link, you’re such a party pooper!” Midna groaned, hopping off the altar and joining the crowd headed towards the door. With disbelief, Link followed, feeling drained. He tried to catch up to Zelda, but she was gone, presumably at the front of the crowd piling onto the bus. Sighing dejectedly, he felt a pensive frown form on his face.

…What was up with Zelda?

 


	3. Misunderstandings

Feeling exhausted, yet knowing that rest was still hours away, Auru continued his patrol down the hallway of the Stock Pot Inn’s fourth floor, fighting back a yawn that threatened to tear his face in two. Good Farore, he was tired… If only he hadn’t volunteered for the first watch, he could be curled up in his bed, unconscious and snoring peacefully like the old man he was becoming. But somebody had to make sure none of the kids were sneaking out of their rooms and it might as well start with him; the trip was his idea, after all.

He could really go for a cup of coffee.

As he turned a corner, heading towards the staircase that led towards the barista on the ground floor, he caught sight of Ruto and Darunia attempting to sneak into Ruto’s bedroom.

Goddesses preserve us, not already! It wasn’t even nine yet!

“Hey!” he yelled, all-authority, quickening his pace and throwing on a disapproving scowl. “What do you two think you’re doing?!”

Both teens jumped and shot Auru matching looks of chagrin.

“Uh, w-well, Roonie here was just helping me pick up this super heavy thing in my room, and…” Ruto began, in a valiant attempt to save face. Darunia caught on a second too late.

“Yeah, she just needed my help real fast, then I was gonna-“

“Yeah, no,” Auru cut them off, feeling irritated. Honestly, how dim did they think he was? “No boys allowed on the girls’ floor. You two know that. I’ll let you go this once, just because I’m not in the mood to call anyone’s parents and get anyone sent home, but you will either return to your individual rooms or head down to the first floor immediately, otherwise I’ll be forced to get nasty. And if I catch either of you two trying to sneak off alone together again…”

He let the threat hang ominously in the air, and the two teens hastily made excuses and beat their retreat.

Sighing tiredly, Auru rubbed at his face. He didn’t like playing the bad guy, but he didn’t have a choice. He’d known since Darunia and Ruto had signed on for the trip that they’d attempt something like this; it was a good thing that the rest of the students were relatively trustworthy.

Continuing on his merry stroll towards the promise of a caffeinated stimulus, Auru began heading down the stairs towards the ground floor only to bump into yet another student on the third-floor landing.

“Link!” Auru exclaimed brightly upon noticing his favorite pupil, only to furrow his brow a moment later in suspicion. “Where are you going?”

Link’s eyes widened in surprise for a moment, clearly having not expected to see his teacher appear in front of him without warning, and said, “Oh, Mr. Auru! I was, uh… I was just looking for you, actually.”

Auru quirked an eyebrow. “You were? For what?”

“Oh, I, um… I had a, uh, question about something that I saw today, and was just wondering if you could maybe answer it for me.”

“You mean something from the museum?”

“Uh, well sorta…” He scratched the back of his head, looking sheepish. “Actually, it’s from the Sacred Grove. I was just wondering… does the Hero of Time have to have the Triforce of Courage to pull the sword? Like, how does the sword know when the Hero’s hand touches it?”

Mr. Auru frowned thoughtfully, stepping away from the bottom stair to stand a little closer to Link and stroking his chin with a pensive motion.

“You know…” he mused quietly, “I actually have no idea. I’d assume it’s because of magic or destiny or something… that the sword knows its master’s hand, I mean, but as to whether he needs the Triforce to pull it… I’m really not sure. Perhaps we can find the answer to your question tomorrow when we head back to the museum, eh?”

“Oh, sure. Okay,” Link said, nodding in affirmation, and the two continued to stand there, staring at each other.

“So…”

“Um…”

“Where are you-?”

“Oh, I was just headed downstairs,” Link cut in hastily, forcing a laugh and refusing to make eye contact.

“Uh huh…” Auru replied, but before he could interrogate Link any further, his phone began to ring.

“One second, Link,” Auru murmured, pulling out his phone and glancing at the name.

_Rusl Smith…_

“I’m sorry, Link, I need to take this,” Auru said, pressing the answer button and holding the phone to his ear as he stepped past Link into the third-floor corridor where the boys’ rooms were located.

“No problem! I’ll catch you later, Mr. Auru!” Link said quickly and darted into the stairwell. With his back turned, Auru didn’t notice Link ascend the staircase.

“Hello?”

“Auru! It’s me, Rusl,” came the voice of Auru’s old college buddy, Rusl Smith, Ordon’s current Chief of Police. “How’s it going? I’m just calling to check up on the kids and make sure nothing suspicious is going on.”

“We’re fine, Rusl. The kids were all perfectly behaved. In fact, I think Link’s idea worked wonderfully; they all seem to be in high spirits and I haven’t heard one mention of the shooting all day.”

“Good, good,” Rush mused from the other end. “Well, that’s a relief. All was quiet here in Ordon today, though to be honest, I wasn’t expecting anything to go down. Still, we were extra staffed, just to be safe. You can’t be too careful.”

“Mmm,” Auru responded, stifling another yawn. Rusl laughed from the other end of the line.

“Those kids tuckering you out, Auru?”

“You have no idea…” he moaned, slumping against a wall and running his free hand through his hair. “And I’m up first for watch duty to make sure they keep their hormones in check.”

“Well, you’ll be good at that. You were always a wet blanket.”

“Thanks,” he replied dryly.

“Anyway, I’m off; Uli heated up the leftovers for me, and I’m famished. Give me a call if anything out of the ordinary happens, will you? Oh, and if Colin gives you any trouble, feel free to smack him around a bit. It isn’t abuse; you’re practically his uncle.”

“Will do, Rusl. Have a nice night.”

“You too, Auru.”

With a click, the line went dead, and Auru stared at the phone for a moment, thinking quietly to himself. Finally, after another yawn, Auru continued his journey down the stairs on his noble quest for artificial stimulant, musing idly about how the Hero of Time had survived in his various quests before the introduction of the coffee bean to Hyrule. Poor guy must have had a rough life.

* * *

Zelda lay propped up against the headrest of her bed, both pillows tucked neatly behind her back to provide support as she stared without seeing at the book in her hands, trying to get some headway on her reading assignment for English. Trying was the keyword, however; no matter how hard she focused on the page before her, she couldn’t seem to retain any information. Her thoughts kept turning back to what had happened earlier that day at the museum.

He’d ditched her. He’d actually ditched her. She’d left him that morning at the fountain after he’d single-handedly destroyed months of meticulous planning for their ‘special weekend’ to make the new girl feel included or whatever, and she’d done so operating under the understanding that he’d come and get her once he was done. It wasn’t until they’d begun loading onto the bus at the end of the day that she accepted that he’d stood her up.

She’d been forced to spend the entire day exploring the museum on their past lives with Kafei, Anju, and Cremia instead of her boyfriend; nothing against Kafei and Anju, who were two of her best friends in the entire world, but despite Kafei’s promise, she did still feel kinda third-wheelish. Thankfully they’d brought Cremia, who Zelda hadn’t met before, though she was surprised to discover that the two got along rather well. She was like a cross between Anju and Malon, equal parts adventurous farm girl and motherly big sister, and the two had a fun time together examining the displays and teasing Kafei and Anju behind their backs.

Still, she hadn’t managed to stop herself from dwelling on Link’s absence, and as the day dragged on, the more irritated she grew. She still felt bad about letting her annoyance get to her when she’d refused to help Link in his little predicament at the grove a couple hours earlier, but part of her felt vindicated in having done so. It did her vengeful side some good to see him flail without her help, and it’s not like there was any real danger; Link was just overreacting. It’s not like he actually _had_ to pull when he put his hand on the hilt, like destiny or some other supernatural force or something was going to take control of his body and force him to yank it from the pedestal. He could have just faked it, right? It’s not like anything bad would have happened because she’d let her anger rule her actions and left him to sink or swim on his own…

Right?

Zelda frowned heavily at the page before her, trying to sweep her consternation and anxiety under the rug and focus on her book. Ok, no more thinking about Link. No more boys, no more drama, no more stupid nonsense that’ll distract her from her homework assignment. She was not going to be that tacky, cliché teenage girl who whined and moaned about the things her boyfriend may or may not have done. She was better than that – she was Zelda, bearer of the Triforce of Wisdom, the Princess of Destiny, and as old as time itself, Din blast it! She would rise above! She would be calm, and wise, and mature, and-

A sudden loud groan broke through her inner ranting, and Zelda peeked curiously over the top of her book to examine her roommate.

Midna lay sprawled out on her back over the foot of Zelda’s bed, her pale legs hanging over either side of the corner so that her combat boots didn’t touch Zelda’s bedspread. Her belly button was peeking out beneath the hem of her black tank top which had ridden up in all her tossing and turning, and her hair fanned around her like a fiery black halo as she scowled darkly up at the book she was holding in front of her face, one she was no doubt reading for her mother’s book club, looking for all the world as frustrated as Zelda felt.

 “I mean, really!” she suddenly blurted out, gesturing violently with the book and talking to no one in particular, even though only Zelda was there to hear. “Why is it that every time two chicks are alone together in a book, they have to be talking about a guy? What, is there nothing better to talk about? Are they too vapid and insecure to realize that there are fifty other plot-related things they could and probably _should_ be discussing before wasting time with their stupid love lives?”

Pushing herself up on one arm without breaking stride, Midna turned and locked her gaze on Zelda, looking infuriated.

“But no, of course not – women are the weaker sex! A woman’s thoughts and opinions could never be focused on anything other than the trivial and the mundane! Never mind that the whole light-blasted world is coming to an end and the veritable apocalypse has descended upon us to carry us all away into the night! But I guess that just goes to show how our depraved society still views women, as if we were little more than embellishments intended to make men look better. Well, not me! No way, I could go a whole day without talking about a guy! No – two! A week! Ha, I don’t need _any_ men to make me feel important! I am woman, hear me slay the light-forsaken dragon and save the world by myself, so help me Farore! You with me, Zelda?!”

Zelda grunted noncommittally and returned to her book.

Midna gave a savage nod and hurled the book across the room where it smacked against the far wall and landed beside their tiny waste bin. She then flopped back to her initial position with a final, “Yeah! Woo! Girl power – get some!”

There was a moment’s pause in which Zelda attempted to immerse herself in her book once more.

“So… What’s up?” Midna asked, nonchalant, clearly bored now that she’d lost her only other source of entertainment.

Zelda let her own novel drop into her lap and said, without preamble, “I think I hate my boyfriend.”

Groaning softly, Midna covered her eyes with her arm and mumbled, “I hate you so much right now…”

“Midna, this is serious!” Zelda exclaimed, exasperated, and Midna rolled her eyes.

"No, it isn't. You're just going through your first lover's spat."

“This is not our first disagreement, Midna. Don’t patronize me,” Zelda snapped, setting the book on her side table and pulling her feet up so she was sitting cross-legged. Midna rolled onto her side and placed her head in her hand.

“Okay, yeah, but it’s the first time you didn’t make up like two seconds later. Look, Zelly, I hate to say it but… I told you this was going to happen.”

It was Zelda’s turn to roll her eyes. “Mid, he’s _not_ cheating on me.”

“I didn’t say he was – not yet, anyway.”

“Midna, this is Link we’re talking about! He’d sooner go out with Ralph than go out with some other girl behind my back!”

“I know!” she said, flopping back onto her back and throwing her hands into the air. “He’s Link, the Boy Wonder, denser than a crowd of platinum blondes at a Starbucks iced-latte sale… but that doesn’t mean that every other girl in the world is equally as thick.”

Zelda moaned, rubbing tiredly at her eyes. “What are you talking about?”

“What I’m saying, dearest sister of mine, is that for reasons that apparently every female in the world minus me and Aryll can see, Link is hot stuff. For ninety-nine percent of them, it’s just ‘cause he’s popular after the incident last year, but that doesn’t stop them from testing the waters and waiting for the opportune moment to try and steal him from you.”

“Midna-“

“No, Zel, hear me out,” the petite girl cut in, finally righting herself and mirroring Zelda’s position with a rare look of sincerity on her face. “Link is a good guy; he’s been my best friend for nearly forever and he cares about you. I know he does. But, you know… sometimes, me and the others, we like to tease you two about being an ‘old married couple’, and there’s kind of a reason for that…

“I dunno, maybe, even if it’s just subconsciously, Link likes all the flirting and attention that he’s getting from Marin. You two never really went through a honeymoon stage, you just sort of… clicked, like you’d been together forever, which is great and all but…” she sighed, shrugging her shoulders.  “Maybe he’s just basking in the moment…  but if you’re not careful, little things can turn into bigger things that can ruin relationships.”

Zelda stared quietly at Midna’s expectant face, mulling carefully over her words. “So, what is it you’re saying, exactly?”

A wicked grin split across her face. Leaping to her feet, bouncing lightly on the mattress, Midna struck a dramatic pose with one hand on her hip and the other held aloft as if clinging to a heroic blade. “You have to fight for your man, Zelda! For the sake of your happiness and your sanity, you must show him, and all the disgusting scavenging teenage girls around us that he is _your_ man and _nobody_ else’s, and he will _never_ be anybody else’s until you say so! Defend your turf, woman!”

Despite her situation, Zelda found herself smiling stupidly at her best friend’s antics. In all honesty, Midna had some good advice every now and again, when she remembered she was a human being, too. Still, ignorant as her best friend was about certain aspects of Zelda and Link’s relationship, she couldn’t grasp the entirety of why Zelda was angry at her boyfriend… but she was grateful for her advice nonetheless.

“Now,” Midna continued, seeing that her little speech had at least brightened up her best friend’s mood, “let’s go downstairs and show that blonde spaz and his new ginger attaché that Zelda Nohansen means business!”

Zelda blanched as Midna snatched her hand and attempted to drag her off the bed and out into the hall.

“Whoa! Whoa whoa whoa, Midna, wait! We’re _not_ doing this right now!" she screeched, snatching at the bedpost and anchoring herself to her bed. 

“Why… not…?” Midna grunted, tugging for all her tiny body was worth.

“Because… I’m too… angry… to be rational…!”

“To the pit with rationality!” she cried, cackling madly, when there was a sudden knock at the door.

The two girls exchanged blank looks before Midna shrugged and dropped her friend back down on the bed, sauntering off to answer it.

“Wait, Midna!” Zelda called out, hastily repositioning herself on her comforter, but before she could tell her not to open the door, she heard the telltale click of the doorknob and the swish of carpet as Midna greeted the person at the door.

“Well hey there, Link!” Midna chirped over-enthusiastically, and Zelda felt her blood run cold.

“Hey, Mid,” Zelda’s boyfriend laughed nervously from out in the hallway, conveniently located around a corner that prevented Zelda from seeing him. “Why are you smiling like that?”

“What, am I not allowed to be happy?” Midna shot back, cocking her hip out to the side and scowling at the taller boy.

“Happy, yes. Bubbly, no. What’s going on?”

“Oh, nothing. I was just chatting it up with Zelly. But don’t worry!” she added loudly, cutting Link off as he started to respond, “I was just leaving. You and Zelda can have the whole room to yourselves, you dirty little scamps, you.”

Zelda felt her face flush crimson as Midna flashed her a quick wink and mouthed, ‘you’ll thank me later’ before slipping past a stuttering Link and vanishing down the hallway, her cackling laughter echoing off the halls.

Hissing softly, Zelda hastily tugged the comforter of her bed up over her legs despite her jeans and tucked her hair behind her ear, schooling her feelings before Link could see how Midna’s comment had affected her. Snatching ‘Wuthering Heights’ from off the side table, she opened it to a random page and began pretending to read right as Link trudged slowly into the room, closing the door behind him with a soft snap.

Silence stretched on as Link regarded Zelda quietly through his messy bangs; Zelda remained resolutely focused on the book in her hand. Seconds turned into minutes, and the only sound that could be heard was the soft hum of the air conditioner. Zelda turned a page idly, trying her best to appear aloof.

After what felt like an eternity, Link cleared his throat.

She ignored him, feeling irritated that he thought clearing his throat was an adequate way of getting her attention. He cleared his throat again, and she continued ignoring him, allowing herself to settle more comfortably against the pillows she was resting on.

Finally, Link sighed and stepped closer to the bed, tucking his thumbs into the pockets of his khaki cargo pants and examining Zelda critically. “Zelda… are you okay?”

An unexpected flare of anger exploded in her chest, and she shot him a look over the top of her book. Link frowned in that way he had when being told he was going to have to do something unpleasant.

“Alright,” he grunted sourly, sitting down by her feet and fixing her with a flat look. “What did I do?”

"Whatever do you mean?" she asked lightly, turning another page even though not enough time had elapsed for her to have possibly read the one she was on. This wasn’t good; her irritation with him was only growing.

“Come on, Zel, don’t be like that. You’ve been short with me ever since the Grove earlier, but you’re gonna have to give me a hint or something, ‘cause I don’t know what I need to do to make things right.”

She stopped herself from snorting. Give him a hint? How was it that he didn’t know what he did? What, did he suddenly forget about the marking he was hiding beneath the glove on his hand and the implications it held for the two of them? Had he forgotten that today marked the anniversary of a nightmare the two of them had nearly given their lives to correct? Had he forgotten that they’d helped to plan this entire trip for the sole purpose of spending time together learning more about the past they shared?

The answer to the last was fairly obvious but she didn’t want to just come out and say that, knowing that it’d likely start a shouting match and that Link would simply begin making up excuses for his behavior; she didn’t want to have to deal with that right now. In any event, she wanted him to acknowledge that he’d stood her up. She wanted him to be sorry about it without her forcing him to feel that way. Just that and a firm promise that he wouldn’t let anyone come between them tomorrow and she could let the whole thing go. Was that really so much to ask?

When she didn’t answer right away, Link groaned and collapsed onto his back, lying perpendicular to Zelda. For a moment, she was reminded that Link and Midna had been friends since childhood; they shared a lot of the same mannerisms.

“Zel… look, I’m sure this is one of those problems where I just did something stupid and you want me to come out and tell you what it is, but… I’m drawing a blank here. Can’t you just nudge me in the right direction?”

She met his pleading stare with a flat one of her own, and he sighed, running a hand through his hair in exasperation. His green shirt was a little wrinkled; he’d probably taken a nap upon returning to the hotel. He was always looking for an excuse to slack off.

“Okay, fine. Forget that, then. I’ll figure this out on my own. But while I’m here, can you answer something else for me? What was that all about in the Grove earlier? Why didn’t you have my back?”

Closing the book with a snap, Zelda met his questioning look with a coolly arched eyebrow, her lips drawn to a thin line.

Link continued. “I mean, what would have happened if I’d drawn the sword? Zelda, the peace we fought so hard for last year would have just… totally fallen apart on us. Everyone would have known I was the Hero of Time and you were the Princess of Destiny. Was whatever I did really worth risking that?”

Something close to guilt settled in her gut, but she shoved it away. The answer to that was obviously no. She knew it, and he knew it, but there wasn’t any point in voicing that aloud. It would just undermine her anger. Instead, she found herself saying, “Why didn’t you just get Marin to help you?”

_Bad response._

She felt her cheeks turn pink as soon as she said it, and she snapped her mouth closed, regretting her words instantly. Curse Midna for putting thoughts into her head! That was stupid and puerile and only vaguely connected to the problem at hand! What on earth had possessed her to utter those words!?

She could see the sudden, wrong comprehension blooming across Link’s face, and she had to clench her fists to stop herself from strangling him.

“Oh…”

 _No, not ‘oh’!_ Goddesses, she could be an idiot sometimes!

“Zelda, you can’t… I didn’t… Light, Zel, I didn’t mean to ruin your day; I just wanted to make the new girl feel more welcome.”

Nayru, but he sounded sincere… And the worst part was, he really _was_ being sincere. From his point of view, he was just helping somebody in need, and that was all the reasoning Link needed. Why, then, couldn’t he see things the way she did?

He was still talking. “I promise you, nothing was going on. We were never alone together, we stayed with her friends, we only visited the less-important rooms so I could save the other rooms for us tomorrow… Zelda, you have to believe me, I’m not… There isn’t anything between me and Marin.”

It was time to steer this conversation back in the proper direction, but she was so mad at him and flustered at herself and her stupid mouth that she couldn’t get the proper words out.

“No, Link, that’s not… this isn’t about that at all-“

“Then what is this about? Zel, come on, I wanna fix this-“

“Where were you today?” she cut him off, unable to keep the anger from straining her voice, and Link started back, caught off-guard.

“W-what? I… You know where I was, I was-“

“Why didn’t you come and find me?” He looked confused, and she tossed her head in frustration, trying to keep her composure. “You promised me you’d come and get me when you were done. You never came. Where were you?”

Link’s mouth worked silently, an alarmed expression on his face, and Zelda pressed on. “I mean, we only planned on making this trip together for the last few months so that you and I could learn a thing or two about the people we used to be and the lives we used to live together. Forgive me for wanting to share this experience with you-!”

“I wanted you to come!” Link blurted out, raising his voice in self-righteous anger. “I invited Marin to spend time with you and me, the both of us! I wanted you to be there!”

“Well, excuse me for wanting to keep this between the two of us!” Zelda bellowed back, infuriated. “I mean, I realize it’s a public museum and all, but that doesn’t mean that other people are getting the same things out of this that we are! All I wanted was one day for the two of us, but you just had to go and be the hero again!” Zelda felt her throat begin to close up, but she fought to keep her voice steady and hide her emotions behind her anger.

“So what, I was supposed to leave the new girl all alone and friendless? That doesn’t seem particularly heroic to me, Zelda-“

“ _To the pit with being a hero!_ ” Zelda snarled, slashing her hand across the air, causing those little sparkles she’d managed to form the other day to fizzle through the air like New Year’s fireworks. Link looked startled but Zelda ignored them, pressing on. “Din, for _one day_ can’t you forget about being the hero and remember that you’re my boyfriend?! Just one day! One day, Link, that’s all I wanted, just…”

Oh Nayru, she was crying… that wasn’t supposed to happen! Come on, Zelda, pull it together! But it was too late; she could feel the tears starting to leak out down her cheeks as all her anger fell away.

“It’s just… for once, I wanted this to be just you and me… I didn’t want to have to share you with anyone…”

Silence pervaded the hotel room again as Zelda examined Link through her tears and Link stared solemnly at the bedspread. She could see guilt showing through on his face now, but it was too little too late. She knew the trip had effectively been ruined for the two of them, but as a couple… As a couple, they’d be fine. They just needed some time to calm down.

Looking defeated, Link’s mouth formed the beginning of an apology, but Zelda quickly shook her head, dismissing it. No apologies were needed, as long as they understood each other.

Sighing, Link half-stepped as though to go, but then paused and turned back to her, not quite meeting her eyes; he always said he couldn’t stand seeing her cry. With a discomfited shrug, he mumbled, “I came up ‘cause everyone’s downstairs in the lobby getting ready to play cards… They said they didn’t want to start without you.”

Zelda took a breath to steady herself as she carefully wiped at the corners of her eyes, trying to pull herself back together. “Tell them I’m turning in early tonight.”

He nodded mutely and walked slowly to the door, looking for all the world like a man who’d just been given a death row sentence. As he pulled the door shut behind him, he paused for a moment and half looked like he was about to say something… But then the door closed, and Zelda was alone.

Zelda plopped back against her pillow, feeling drained. She hated fighting with Link; it almost never happened, because for all that she liked to complain about his laziness, he was actually quite sweet and considerate… But he was also human, which made him imperfect, which meant that he made mistakes every now and again, and she had to learn to deal with them when they came…

She was the same way. Link showed remarkable patience with her, and she loved him for it, but… Din, there was something about him that made her feel like an insecure teenage girl. Maybe that should have been normal, considering that she was, in fact, a teenage girl, but ever since she’d received the Triforce of Wisdom, she’d become accustomed to being the calm, wise, level-headed, and intuitive human being that all of her friends had come to rely on.

Why, then, did she find herself making so many mistakes when it came to Link? She'd made several that day, to be sure. Why didn't her Wisdom come to her when she really needed it? She yanked the glove off her right hand and examined the glowing triangles with no little derision. Perhaps it was because Link's own Triforce piece canceled hers out…? But no, Link himself had told her how his Courage seemed to react to her that day one year ago in the principal’s office. Whatever it was, Zelda hated it. It seemed unfair that her blessing assisted her in every other aspect of life but the one she cared the most about. You’d think that female goddesses would want to help their disciples have perfect love lives.

Well… She’d leave that for another time. Slipping her glove back on, she switched off the lamp beside her and lay back onto her bed, staring blankly up at the ceiling. She was in a predicament; she’d told Link she was going to sleep, meaning she couldn’t leave the room without risking another conversation with him, which she wasn’t emotionally ready for at the moment… and yet, she also wasn’t tired anymore. She sighed, letting her eyes adjust to the darkness… It looked like she was in for a few hours of useless brooding over her and Link’s fight. Lovely.

After a few minutes, Zelda pushed herself back up, thinking that maybe she’d be able to distract herself with a nice hot shower when there was another knock at the door. Zelda groaned; the only person she could stand to see right now was Midna, but she had a key card and wouldn’t have been knocking… which could only mean that either Link was back, or one of their friends had come to ‘check up on her’… Her money was on Aryll.

Flipping the light back on, Zelda made for the door and prepared herself to force a cheerful smile and tell whoever it was that she was getting ready to shower and would talk to them later when she peeked through the peephole and saw the ever-gloomy countenance of one Colin Smith.

Zelda blinked in surprise, then opened the door.

“Colin?”

“Hey, Zelda,” he replied monotonously, his gaze glued to the carpet. “How’s it going?”

“Um… not so great. Looks like you’re having a wonderful evening yourself.”

He chuckled humorlessly. “Yeah, you could say that… You busy?”

Zelda bit her lip as she considered telling him that she was, thank you very much, and shutting the door in his face, but wound up sighing and opening the door wider, letting him in.

“Aryll problems?”

“How’d you guess?” he snorted darkly, and Zelda gave a rueful shake of her head as she shut the door behind him.

“I guess it’s just bad relationship day all around for the Heros,” she replied dully, and Colin shot her a quizzical look only to notice the redness in her eyes and her general crestfallen demeanor.

 “Oh Din… Zelda, are you crying?!”

“Was, Colin. Past-tense.” She felt a little insecure admitting thats all. We’re fine.”

Colin nodded, looking torn between wanting to defend Zelda and the possibility of admitting that his idol Link was less than perfect. Deciding to spare him having to choose between them, Zelda changed the topic.

“So, what’d she do this time?” she asked, plopping down on Midna’s bed for a change and patting the spot beside her. Colin eased himself down with a sigh, looking despondent.

“Nothing… well, not really. She’s angry with me because I tried defending her from Ralph today at the museum, and… w-well, I may have accidentally called her my girlfriend.”

"Ah…" Zelda replied, though to be honest, she wasn't too invested in Colin's story. The way she saw it, she’d already given him the advice he needed; he just hadn’t been ready to take it yet. All he wanted was for someone to listen to him and sympathize with his problems, and that at least she could do. After all, misery did love company, and you couldn’t get much more miserable than the two of them.

Before she could work up a better response than ‘ah,’ however, they were interrupted by the sound of her phone ringing from where she’d left it charging next to the TV on the dresser. Shooting Colin a ‘hold on’ look, she hopped to her feet and walked toward the phone, enjoying the feel of her socks swishing on the carpet before snatching it up. She decided to check who was calling before just silencing outright; she had been a little moody that evening.

_Anju Potts… I wonder what she wants…_

“Just a sec, Colin, I think I need to take this… Hello?”

“Zelda?”

"Hey, Anju, what's up?"

“Um… W-well, it’s just… I just needed to talk to someone, um… do you think you could come down for a moment?”

There was something strange about Anju’s tone; she sounded shaky, like she was scared or something. Colin must have noticed the worry on Zelda’s face because he shot her a frown as if to ask what was wrong. She shook her head and turned to examine her reflection in the mirror as she answered the older girl on the phone.

“Well… what do you mean, come down? Are you at our hotel? Anju, are you ok, you don’t sound-”

“I’m in the parking lot,” she interrupted quietly. Something was definitely up. “I know you’re probably not supposed to leave the building or anything, but… Gods, Zelda, I just really need to talk to you right now… I’m in a white Subaru. My lights are on. Can you come down, just for a second?”

“I…” Zelda began, thinking about how much trouble she’d get in if Auru or Nabooru caught her sneaking into the parking lot, but the tone of Anju’s voice cemented her resolve. “…Yeah, hun. I’ll be down in just a sec, okay? … okay, bye.”

“What’s up?” Colin asked, clearly concerned.

“I dunno,” Zelda answered, stuffing her feet into her shoes by the door and snatching her bag from off the chair in the corner. “Anju just called. She says she’s in the parking lot and wants to talk to me. She didn’t say what’s up, but she sounds like she’s been crying.”

Colin got slowly to his feet, looking uncomfortable. “Um… I thought we weren’t supposed to leave the hotel…?”

“We’re not, Colin, but my friend needs my help, ok?” Zelda shot back, feeling irritated. Din, but that boy needed a backbone…

“Ok, but… can I come with you?”

Zelda stopped, her hand poised on the handle, and shot a surprised look over her shoulder. “Uh… why?”

He shrugged and mumbled sheepishly, “Well, I don’t have anything better to do.”

Zelda thought about it for a moment, then jerked her head towards the door as if to say, ‘well, come on then!’

The two teens crept down the hallway silently, doing their best to not draw attention to themselves, but it wound up not mattering because nobody passed them in the hallway or on the stairwell that they’d opted to take in lieu of the elevator so as to better avoid detection from teachers. Reaching the ground floor, Zelda cautiously poked the swinging glass door open and peered out into the dark, poorly lit parking lot. There didn’t seem to be anybody out there… the white Subaru sat three rows away with its engine running, the lights illuminating a row of hedges that separated the parking lot from a highway that still buzzed with heavy traffic. Castleton never slept.

Signaling to Colin, Zelda slipped out into the chilly night air, the wind mussing her hair as she sprinted towards the car, hearing Colin follow right behind her. She was panting by the time she arrived at the stationary vehicle, which was ridiculous because it really wasn’t that far away, though she chalked it down to ‘dramatics’ more than to her being out of shape, simply because it made her feel better. Snatching at the door handle, Zelda hopped into the passenger seat and let out a relieved breath after slamming the door shut behind her. Success!

As Colin scrambled into the seat behind her, Zelda turned to flash a smile at Anju only to feel it die on her face. Anju looked like a wreck; her eyes bloodshot from crying, hair a mess, skin pale, and she was trembling all over. She still tried for a smile, but it was weak and frankly pathetic and only served to make Zelda more worried.

“Light, Anju, what’s wrong?!” Zelda asked, voice hushed, snatching up the girl’s hand in her own in an attempt to calm her. Colin was still wheezing in the backseat, staring wildly out the window as if he expected Ezlo to come hobbling out after them, shouting threats to have them all expelled.

“I-I’m fine,” Anju tried, but Zelda shot her a warning look that had the older girl cutting off with a hiccup.

“Anju, you didn’t drive over here this late at night and ask me to sneak out of my hotel and risk suspension just to shoot the breeze. Now, tell me what’s wrong.”

“I-it’s just... I…”

“…Anju?”

“…Have you spoken to Kafei?”

Zelda blinked. “Um… no, not since we left you guys at the museum to go visit the Grove… Why, did something…?”

Tears were welling up in Anju’s eyes again, and Zelda felt renewed worry begin to blossom inside of her.

“Z-Zelda, I-I don’t… I don’t know what to do, Kafei… K-Kafei’s missing.”

* * *

Laughing, Link slapped the deck against the table and scooped his newly shuffled cards into his hand, sorting through them and smacking Sheik’s arm away as he tried to sneak a look at his hand.

“Hey guys,” came Mr. Auru’s voice as he approached the table in the hotel’s lobby from the direction of the elevators, looking a little harassed. “Try and remember to keep it down, okay? We don’t need you getting us all kicked out on our first night.”

“Aw, come on, Auru!” Midna chirped from her seat between Aryll and Saria at their table. “We’re just a bunch of rambunctious, crazy, adrenaline-fueled teenagers screaming at the top of our lungs and gambling over vending machine snacks late into the night. Who could possibly have a problem with that?”

Snorting, Link winked in response to Auru’s disgruntled expression and called out over the hubbub, “Auru, come join us!”

“Yeah, come play!”

“We haven’t started this round yet; we’ll deal you in!”

“I see your pants and raise you my double-stuffed Oreos!”

“Mr. Hero, you seem to be perspiring rather intensely. Maybe you should call it quits for tonight,” came the authoritative voice of Vice Principal Nabooru, walking over to join Auru beside Link’s table.

“I am?” Link asked, confused. Laughing, Marin pulled a card off the top of the deck and stuck it to his forehead, where it stayed due to the thin layer of perspiration, and the whole table exploded in laughter.

“Aw, come on, Nabooru!” Link chuckled, shoving Sheik off once again and chucking a package of M&M’s to Ralph at the end of the table. “It’s just good fun. Why don’t you join too? We could use a poker face like yours.”

“Excuse me?” she drawled, raising a solitary eyebrow in perfectly executed disdain, but Link merely laughed all the harder. Goddesses, but he was in a good mood. Only one thing was missing, and she was holed up in her room three floors above him, avoiding him. Well… he’d find some way to fix that later. No use in dwelling on that all night and ruining everyone’s fun.

Through the hustle and bustle of excited teens, Link caught sight of two police officers entering the hotel through the front entrance and approaching the check-in desk, exchanging words with the receptionist and flashing a photograph.

“Link, hurry up!” called Medli, Marin’s orchestra friend, from the far end of the table. “Start the round before Makar eats all my Starburst!”

“Okay, okay!” he called, trying to appease his peers. At the desk, the lady turned her head slowly towards the table where Link and his friends were sitting and the two cops followed suit, severe looks on their faces.

“Hey Link, what’s…?” Sheik trailed off, his eyes having followed Link’s gaze and noticed the two cops heading towards them. The sound around the table slowly faded as everyone else began to notice the approaching officers. Their dumbfounded expressions finally caught Auru and Nabooru’s attention, and the two teachers turned to look right as the officers arrived at the table.

“Evening, folks,” said the first, an older man wearing ugly 80s aviator sunglasses and a black police uniform, the shirt of which appeared to be too small for his body. The second, who was shorter and had a silly handlebar mustache, examined the other students at the table distrustfully.

“Um, good evening, officers. Can I… help you with something?”

“You are?”

“I’m these students’ teacher, Mr. Auru. And this is their vice principal, Ms. Nabooru.”

Nodding to the two, the first officer allowed his gaze to drift past them and focus on Link’s. “Is there a Mr. Link Hero staying at this hotel with you?”

He felt rather than saw every head at the table turn to look at him. The card flopped off his forehead and landed on the table.

“I, uh…” Auru fumbled, confused, and Link slowly raised his hand.

“Can I help you?” he asked nervously. Din, why were the cops there? Had someone really called them in because they were too loud? Wouldn’t they have gone to the hotel management first? Or did this have something to do with them playing cards? Maybe someone in the hotel thought they were gambling for money or something and that was illegal in Castleton for minors...? That made sense, right?

Stepping past the two baffled faculty members, the officers regarded Link critically.

“You’re Link Hero?”

“Yes?”

“Mr. Hero,” said the first, suddenly reaching for his belt, “you’re under arrest for the theft of private property from the Museum of National History.”

 The table broke out in an uproar, and a baffled Link Hero was hauled to his feet.

 


	4. Rule Breaking

“This is ridiculous!” Sheik snarled, slamming his drawer shut violently and rattling the television that was perched atop it. He shot the lamp a scathing look but managed to stop himself from hurling it out the window. Barely.

“Calm down, Sheik…” his girlfriend muttered absently from her perch on his bed where she’d been messing with her cell phone for the past few minutes.

“Calm down?! _Calm down?!_ Din, how in light’s name am I supposed to calm down? Link just got arrested!”

Aryll gave an unintelligible whimper from her older brother’s bed where she was curled up protectively into a ball, her figure mostly obscured by his comforter. She’d been basically silent since she’d come in, trying and failing to not cry into the hotel’s fluffy cream-colored pillows.

“I’m aware, thank you. I was sitting right next to you when it happened.” Midna said dryly, all attention still focused on her phone, and Sheik felt his rage skyrocket to nuclear levels once more.

What an utterly bizarre twist of fate. Here they were, one year from the anniversary of the blackest moment of Sheik’s entire life, the moment that ought to have resulted in his permanent incarceration for the remainder of his sorry, pathetic excuse for an existence, and instead of quietly mourning his past mistakes and humbly celebrating his merciful liberty, his best friend gets arrested under false allegations of robbery. Never let it be said again that the goddesses lacked a sense of humor; they were certainly mocking him now.

To distract himself, he found himself repeating for the umpteenth time that evening the thoughts that had been bouncing around unanswered inside his skull.

“I just don’t understand! He got arrested for _stealing_ something from the Museum? When?! How?! He was with us all day! Every person on this field trip can support that! What are the police even thinking?!”

Rather than telling him to chill like she’d been doing for the better part of the last twenty minutes, Midna let out a triumphant shout and said, “I found it! They’ve released an official statement to the media!”

“What? Who?” Sheik asked quickly, feeling both confused and irritated.

 “Shush!” she snapped, flapping her hand impatiently at him to shut him up, “The police, duh. Hold on and I’ll read it! It just says that someone was arrested for theft of some priceless object from the Museum. It doesn’t say who or what, though… that’s weird, right?”

“Weird?” Sheik shot back, feeling his anger building again, “You know what’s weird? How they’re not even telling us _why_ they think Link did it in the first place! It’s ludicrous! You can’t just arrest someone without evidence!”

“Apparently, they have that.” Midna cut in dryly, and Sheik shot her a surprised look.

“Huh? They do?”

“Yup. Says here ‘the perpetrator’ was identified from security footage by a member of the museum’s staff.”

It dawned on them simultaneously.

“ _Linebeck!”_ they exclaimed in unison. For some reason, Midna seemed to relax a little.

“Why do you look so calm?” Sheik snapped, scowling, and his girlfriend shrugged lightly, a smug smile tugging at her lips.

“Well, if it was Linebeck, then we probably don’t have anything to worry about. I mean… it’s _Linebeck_. Guy can’t do anything right. They’ll probably end up tossing the whole allegation in the trash before breakfast.”

Despite Midna’s apparent acceptance that everything was all cheese sticks and applesauce, Sheik felt a whole new plume of rage erupting inside of him. Not towards the police or Midna, but towards Linebeck.

“I can’t believe it… that dirty little rat…”

Midna shot him a confused look.

“Link saves his life last year and this is how he repays him?! By accusing him of a crime he didn’t commit and tossing him in prison?! I’m gonna catch that dirty, squealing pig and gut him like a… like a… a pig!”

“Sheik, seriously. Calm. Down.” Midna demanded, fixing him with her scariest no-nonsense look. “We know Link isn’t guilty, which means that the police can’t possibly have any convincing evidence against him. They’ll probably hold him for a few hours then let him go, and we’ll all just laugh about this in the morning, ok? Come on, sit down and help me plan how we can use this to tease him in the future…”

But Sheik was no longer listening to his girlfriend’s attempts to reign in his anger. A course of action that could potentially help Link had suddenly occurred to him and he headed towards the window where he’d kicked off his shoes in anger when he first came up.

“Um… babe? What are you doing?” Midna asked hesitantly, sitting up on the edge of the bed with a nervous look on her face.

“Going to help Link,” he replied shortly, tugging on his second shoe and standing back up, patting his pockets for his phone and wallet.

“What?!” she shrieked, and Sheik winced, rubbing at his ears. “What are-?  There is no way I’m letting you go down to the police station! Stop being an idiot!”

“I’m not going to the police station, Mid,” he replied, and she looked momentarily stymied. “…I’m going to the museum.”

“ _What?!_ ” She shrieked again, and despite himself, Sheik chuckled.

“I’m going to go have a little… chat… with Linebeck. Assuming he’s still there, I mean. And if not, then I’ll find out where he lives and go there instead. If the only thing they have on Link is Linebeck’s testimony that it was Link in the video, then getting Linebeck to retract that testimony ought to get Link out of prison faster.”

 

“What… you… I… Sheik, do you hear yourself right now? There are so many things in that plan that don’t make any sense. And besides, you seem to be forgetting that a certain person in this room has a criminal record. What’s it gonna look like when someone calls the cops because you’ve been skulking around the crime scene in the middle of the night where your best friend was just accused of having stolen something and harassing the informant who told on him?!”

“Like I’m trying to help my best friend.”

“Gah!” she exclaimed in frustration, snatching his pillow up and burying her face into its fluffy depths to muffle her scream. “ _I am surrounded by imbeciles!”_

“Midna,” he said, kneeling down in front of her and trying to adopt a calm, reasoning tone, “try to understand. I just… I need to feel like I’m doing something. I can’t just do nothing when Link needs help. I… I owe him…”

He saw the begrudging understanding pass across her face, but that didn't stop her from one last-ditch attempt to stop him. 

“I… Aryll, can you talk some sense into him? Please?”

Sheik stopped himself from scoffing and turned calmly to face Link’s little sister, who’d remained almost entirely silent from her position curled up under her brother’s covers. The smaller blonde girl was quiet for a second before slowly pushing herself to a sitting position, the covers falling off her shoulders, and placing her socked feet on the floor. She met Sheik’s level gaze with a tear-filled one of her own for a moment before slowly getting to her feet and walking to the door. Sheik thought she was going to leave without saying a word and turned to gloat to Midna before realizing that Aryll was putting her own shoes on.

“Uh…”

“Aryll? What are you…?”

“I’m going with Sheik. I want to help Link too.”

Sheik blinked in surprise, and Midna let out a dumbfounded “Huh?!”

“I just… Sheik’s right. I owe Link too. He came to find me last year when I was locked up in that closet even though he could’ve died, and I … I just… I want to help…”

Her voice was trembling slightly but she met Sheik’s stunned expression with a look of surprising determination. After a pause, he nodded.

“Alright then. Let’s get this show on the road.”

“I… hey!” Midna cried out as Sheik got to his feet and moved to join Aryll. She hopped off the bed and hastily chased them towards the door. “You can’t…! But…! This isn’t…!”

Ignoring his fluttery girlfriend, Sheik opened the door, cast quick looks down both ends of the hallway, and then ushered the silent Aryll outside. He paused before following to shoot Midna an expectant look.

“…what?” she asked, confused.

“Well? You’re coming, aren’t you?”

Her jaw worked soundlessly for a moment, hands balled into fists at her sides, before letting out an exasperated growl and snatching her boots up from beside the door.

“This is so stupid. I hope you realize that.” She grunted darkly as she tugged her shoes on.

“I do.” He pecked her on the temple softly. “Thanks for coming.”

She rabbit punched him in the short rib, and he doubled over with a hoarse grunt of pain. “Well someone has to keep you out of jail. Come on, then, before someone catches us.”

Clutching his side with a pained grimace, Sheik led the trio down the silent hallway towards the far stairwell. It wasn’t that late; maybe just a little past eleven, but all the students had been sent to their rooms right after the cops had hauled Link away. Honestly, Sheik had expected there to be a chaperone or something guarding the hall, but with all the confusion over the arrest they must have been slipping up in their patrols.

Finally feeling like he was doing something seemed to have abated Sheik’s anger for the moment; he could still feel it simmering down underneath, spurring him on, but he was keeping it at bay for now. A good thing, because he knew he would need his wits about him for this admittedly stupid plan to work.

Sheik was grateful for the fabric beneath his feet; it muffled their not-so-sneaky footsteps. The third floor bore green carpeting with a checkered pattern, showing colors ranging from white to green with varying shades between. The walls had dark green wallpaper, broken intermittently with mahogany doors with golden numbers and black keycard slots near the handles. Small light fixtures filled the hall with soft light between every door. All things considered, it wasn't that bad looking; he'd certainly been in tackier hotels.

As they reached the stairwell that led down to the back parking lot (not the one that led to the lobby, as it was probable that they'd be stopped by anyone who saw them, be they school staff or hotel faculty), Sheik cracked the door open and peered into the third-floor landing.

His heart nearly leaped out of his chest.

There, standing right in front of them, were Auru and Nabooru in the middle of a conversation.

“…about three hours.” Auru was saying, looking frazzled as he hurriedly relayed instructions to the Vice Principal. “Then have the shifts change. Alfonzo said he’d cover for me tonight. I’ll call you as soon as I find anything out, alright?”

“Have you called his guardians?” Nabooru asked, calm as a summer evening, as if students were regularly arrested on her shift. She looked to be the veritable antithesis of Auru at the moment; she was completely neat and orderly, as per usual, not a hair out of place, whereas Auru was a nervous wreck. Even his mustache looked like it was sweating.

“Er, well, we've, um… tried. Several times. It would appear Granny Hero is a heavy sleeper. But I'll keep on trying. With any luck, we can get this all sorted out before she wakes up in the morning. I don't think anyone would take too kindly to this news, especially today of all days."

“Mmm," Nabooru grunted noncommittally. "Well. Update me as soon as you get to the police station. You’re taking a taxi?”

“Of course,” he replied in answer to both statements, “Hopefully I’ll see you in a bit.”

With that, he turned and darted off down the staircase.

For a terrifying moment, Sheik thought Nabooru was going to walk through the door he was peeking through and catch them. All of his noble plans for rescuing his best friend seemed to be falling apart in front of his eyes… but then she turned and headed up the stairs towards the girl’s floor. Sheik let out a relieved breath; one bullet dodged.

“What’s up?” Midna whispered, and he jumped slightly, then firmly took ahold of himself, feeling silly.

“Nothing, they’re gone. Ready?”

“We’re waiting on you, aren’t we?”

Nodding, Sheik took one last breath, waiting until he heard the echoing sounds of the upstairs door shutting, signaling that Nabooru had left the stairwell, before pulling the door all the way open and racing in, Midna and Aryll tailing close behind him.

They took the stairs two at a time, rushing as fast and as silently as they dared towards the ground floor, the dirty yellow lighting casting bizarre shadows on the grimy tiled floor and walls. Reaching the ground floor, Sheik paused in his haste and glanced nervously outside to make sure Auru wasn’t still hanging around. He wasn’t.

The trio walked out into the silent darkness of the parking lot, feeling relieved at having not been caught… and then exchanged blank looks.

“So… now what?” Aryll asked.

"I don't have money for a taxi," Midna stated flatly.

"We can just take a bus to the subway, and go that way," Sheik replied. "It can't be that hard, right?"

“I guess not-“

“Aha!” Cried a voice from behind them, making them all start, “Found you!”

Terrified that a teacher had spotted them and followed them out, Sheik wheeled around to face the door again, but the voice had come from just off to the side in a shadowy corner of the parking lot. From the nebulous depths three figures were now emerging, the first sporting a triumphant grin on his familiar, arrogant face.

"Ralph," Sheik said flatly, his heart still racing frantically in his chest. “What in the…? What are you _doing_ out here?!”

"Why, waiting for you of course!" he replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Why?” Sheik asked, impatient. Honestly, someone could come out any second now and catch them! They couldn’t just hang around in front of the door!

“And why are _they_ with you?” Midna asked, a scathing note to her voice, and Sheik turned his attention to Ralph’s comrades whom he’d simply ignored at first. To his utter surprise, he found himself looking at the nervous face of Marin, the new girl Link had rescued just the other day from being run over, and the haughty smirk of Groose, the hulking captain of the rugby team.

“Obviously, upon discovering that my arch rival Link was wrongfully imprisoned by mal-intended ne’er-do-wells, I realized that I must at once set out on a quest to right this sinister wrong and save my helpless compatriot, that my glory might raise in greatness higher than his own! Knowing as I did that his companions would soon launch a rescue attempt, I cloaked myself in these shadows that I might await your arrival and invite you to join my party so that our ventures might stand a greater chance at success!”

Sheik’s head was starting to hurt.

“Ok…” said Midna, shooting Aryll a blank look. Aryll merely shook her head. “Well… what about you two?”

“I…” Marin started, then swallowed nervously, casting a fearful glance towards the door to the stairwell as it swung open, but it was just another hotel guest who hardly spared the teenagers a glance. “I just w-wanted to help Link… He’s been so nice to me, and he saved my life the other day, and when I heard Ralph talking about how he was going to rescue him, I thought I’d see if I could help…”

“Wait, what?” Sheik cut in, alarmed. “Ralph, you went around telling people you were going to leave the hotel?!”

“But of course!” Ralph replied, matter-of-factly. “How else was I to recruit others to our noble cause? How do you think I got young Groose here?”

“Yeah, Groose, what are you doing here? I thought you hated Link.” Midna asked, confused.

“Heh. That sniveling pipsqueak is too below my notice for hatred,” Groose scoffed, thumbing his nose with a cocky smirk. “But I figure it’d look good for the Groosinator’s image if he was seen bein’ all generous and stuff to the nerdy kids. Besides, I’m always for breakin’ the rules.”

“Farore preserve us…” Midna sighed, rubbing her temples tiredly.  “Sheik, please tell me they can’t come along?”

“What?!” Marin cut in, looking terrified and outraged. “Why shouldn’t we get to come?! Link’s our friend too!”

“Whatever. There are too many of us to begin with-“

“I figure I’m worth ten of you, tiny!”

“What did you just call me?!”

“Guys, please, keep it down, you’ll attract attention…”

“Ah, sweetest Aryll, whose voice so like a gentle balm to cure our fevered souls…”

Sheik snapped.

“Guys!” He yelled, catching their attention and shutting their mouths simultaneously. “Everyone can come if we leave right now!”

“But-!”

“No buts, Midna! Ralph already told everyone he was leaving, which means that any minute now someone’s gonna go check on his room. When they realize he’s gone, they’ll search for everyone else and find out we’re gone too. We need to go now if we want to avoid being caught!”

Midna grumbled but accepted without further comment.

“Now,” Sheik continued, realizing he had everyone’s attention. “Who knows where the nearest bus stop is? One that’s out of view of the hotel?”

“I think we passed one just two streets over on the way back from the grove today...” Marin supplied, and Sheik nodded gratefully.

“Awesome. Alright, hurry up and let’s move. Before we get caught, ok?”

“Alright!”

“Yes sir, master navigator!”

Sheik took a deep breath to brace himself, then headed off towards the street, the others following behind. Somehow, he’d become the leader of this merry band of rule-breakers. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that, or if he was happy or upset that there were so many of them who wanted to go. He did know one thing, though; whatever it took, he was going to help Link. He had an endless amount of debt that he owed his best friend, and though he could never hope to pay it back, he may as well start trying.

_We’re on our way, man. Hang tight._

* * *

A bell jingled as Zelda pushed her way into the ice cream parlor, the cool wave of air conditioning washing over her. A sniveling Anju and uncomfortable Colin shuffled in awkwardly behind her, shutting the door with a soft snap.

A perky older lady greeted them from behind the counter with a cheerful, “Hey there, kids! Welcome to Anouki’s Ice Cream!”

Zelda flashed her a fake smile then immediately returned her attention to her friends. Placing a bracing arm around Anju’s shoulder, she whispered soothingly to the trembling older girl, “Alright, let’s just go take a seat, ok?”

“O-Ok…” she mumbled, leaning partially against Zelda for support.

“Um,” Colin cut in awkwardly, “I think I’ll just go get us some ice cream, ok?”

Zelda gave a thankful nod and hurriedly began leading the redhead away as Colin stepped closer to the counter, staring up at the menu boards with a pensive look on his face.

Sitting them at the corner booth furthest from the counter in the empty ice cream shop, Zelda crossed her arms and rested her elbows on the table, examining her friend critically. After telling them in the parking lot of the Stock Pot Inn that her boyfriend Kafei was apparently missing, she’d broken down in hysterics and had been essentially inconsolable, and frankly impossible to understand. After a few minutes of fruitless attempts to calm her, it had been Colin who had suggested they go somewhere to talk. Zelda had driven (Anju was in no shape for much of anything at the moment), and thus they wound up at this family-owned ice cream parlor.

Anju seemed to be doing better now. Her open, body-wracking sobs had reduced themselves to occasional sniffles, and though her eyes were puffy and red they met Zelda’s steadily enough. For a moment, there was no sound in the ice cream parlor save for the hum of the air conditioner that was seriously blowing air too cold for this time of year and an old television hanging up on a wall not far from where they were sitting.

Deciding it was now or never, Zelda placed a reassuring hand on Anju’s and said, softly, “Hey… you ok?”

Nodding, Anju wiped at her eyes with her free hand and snagged some napkins out of a holder on the table.

“I… Yeah, I’m ok, I…”

“…You wanna tell me what’s going on?”

Anju opened her mouth, then hesitated, her eyes glued to the table and an uncharacteristically fragile look on her face. Zelda felt so out of place; this was not the mature, confident girl that had helped her so during the shooting last year.

When she didn’t answer, Zelda leaned a little closer and whispered, “Anju, you know I can’t help if you don’t tell me what’s happening.”

Sighing, Anju physically steeled herself, squeezing her eyelids shut before meeting Zelda’s eyes with her own crystal blue ones.

“Kafei’s gone missing.”

“Right, you said as much earlier. What do you mean he went missing?”

Detangling her fingers from Zelda’s, Anju wiped absently at her nose with a napkin. “I… I don’t know where he went. He’s been gone for hours and I can’t get ahold of him.”

Zelda pursed her lips, a concerned look on her face. “Right… well, start from the top. When and why did he leave? How long has it been exactly?”

“He left after… well, we were all at the museum together, you know… you, me, Kafei, and my friend Cremia…. After you all went off to see the Master Sword, the three of us decided to head back to our hotel. We were kinda tired; it was a long drive yesterday, but we were maybe gonna head out and do something later on tonight… But Kafei was acting so weird on the way back and while we were at the hotel, and then… well, he said he had to go do something, but that he’d be back before six, and he left… but he didn’t take the car. And then Cremia went to her room to sleep, and… and…”

Tears were welling up in her eyes again, and Zelda braced herself for another crying fit.

“H-he never came back! I’ve called and called his phone and sent him texts but he hasn’t answered any of them! A-and Cremia’s gone too! She won’t answer her phone, and I’ve knocked and knocked on her door but she hasn’t answered, and I… I just… I don’t know what to do!”

Zelda chewed her lip, mewling over the situation as her friend sobbed into her now-sodden napkin. It was a little disconcerting, to be sure. Having your boyfriend just randomly up and leave on a vacation to the big city and then have him gone for hours with no word… yeah, that could cause the worst sorts of worries to pop up in the imagination of just about anyone. Still, she supposed it was possible that he was just stuck in traffic on the subway or something and his phone died… but then again…

“Have you considered going to the police?” she asked, and Anju shook her head.

“N-no. In Castleton, they don’t investigate missing persons over the age of eighteen until after twenty-four hours, and as it hasn’t even been twelve…”

“Hmm…” Zelda replied. “Well… Do you have any idea where he might have gone?”

“N-no,” she said. Zelda frowned; there was something odd about the expression on Anju’s face as she said that. Leaning forward, Zelda fixed the older girl with an imploring look.

“Anju… come on, anything could help. You don’t have any idea at all?”

“I…” she started, but then cut off as she started sobbing again.

Zelda sighed; this was getting ridiculous. “Come on, Anju, I’m sure he’s fine. Do you really think anything could hurt Kafei? If he survived last year, he can survive anything.”

“That… That’s not…”

“That’s not what?”

“That’s not… what I’m worried about…”

Zelda frowned. “What do you mean? I don’t understand.”

Anju was wringing the napkin out now, nearly tearing it to shreds as she fidgeted with her hands. “W-well, I… I mean, it’s just… Kafei’s gone, and… and Cremia is too, and I… I mean, I…”

Understanding suddenly bloomed in the pit of her stomach, and Zelda grimaced.

“Oh, Anju…”

“Don’t say it like that!” She exclaimed suddenly, a wild look in her eye. “She’s been our friend since we were little, back when we lived in Termina, and we hadn’t seen each other in years until college! Din, you saw her, Zelda! She’s so much… more than me! Prettier and wealthier and funnier and friendlier and… Light, how can Kafei _not_ fall for that?! What am I compared to her?!”

"Anju," Zelda said, unable to keep a slightly amused, maternal note from her voice. "Anju, stop. You're being ridiculous, and if either of them were here right now, they'd agree."

“But I-“

“No,” she cut off, pointing a finger sternly at the other girl’s face, making her blink. “Cremia _is_ pretty. And nice, and friendly, and funny, and probably all the other things you said about her. How could she not be if she’s your and Kafei’s best friend? But _you_ are all of those things too and don't you dare try to tell me otherwise. Look, it's normal to feel a little threatened or jealous sometimes, but Anju…"

Zelda sighed, then tilted her head to the side and fixed the sad-faced girl with a warm smile. "Anju, what you and Kafei have is honestly one of the purest, most beautiful things I've ever seen. I've never seen two people more perfect for each other, and everyone sees it. Me, Link, Midna, Sheik, Aryll… Cremia. We talked about it a lot today, how utterly adorable the two of you are and how it makes us want to vomit.”

Anju smiled sheepishly but kept her gaze fixed on the table, unable to meet Zelda's eye.

 

 _know_ there’s more there… and maybe I was worried he was getting bored of me.”

She finally looked up and met Zelda’s warm gaze with a sheepish one of her own. “I’m not super proud of myself… you must think I’m being so silly right now.”

"Just a little," Zelda replied, and the two laughed.

“I… thanks, Zelda. I knew you’d be able to help. You always know what to say to make people feel better. How’d you get to be so wise anyway?”

Zelda gave a forced laugh. “Oh, you know… Just lucky.”

“Well, thanks. You’re a good friend. Though I don’t know about all this ‘perfect relationship’ nonsense you’re spewing. You and Link could give us a run for our money any day.”

Zelda hid her grimace behind her hand. Yeah, maybe any day but _that_ one…

“Hey guys, everything alright?”

Zelda and Anju glanced up to see Colin had finally arrived at the table, supporting three small cups of ice cream in his hands. Zelda slid over to give him room to sit down beside her and he shot her a grateful smile.

“Yeah. Sorry for that, Colin.” Anju said, a bashful smile on her face. “I’m sure you didn’t- oh! Did you buy this for me?”

"Well, yeah," Colin said with an absent shrug, digging his pink plastic spoon into his ice cream. "What else was I supposed to do in that line?"

“You have to let me pay you back! I-“

“Anju, don’t worry about it,” Zelda cut off, popping a spoonful of strawberry ice cream into her mouth, savoring the flavor. There were even bits of real strawberry in it. Colin always knew what she liked, he was considerate like that. Aryll was missing out. “Colin never lets ladies pay. He’s a chauvinist.”

“And proud of it,” he joked, munching happily on his own vanilla ice cream. Poor kid didn’t even have any toppings, just pure vanilla. He was so weird…

Anju smiled sweetly, digging into her own chocolate. “Aw, well that’s very gentlemanly of you.”

“Tell that to Midna…” he grumped, and the two laughed.

“So… is Kafei ok?” Colin asked hesitantly, wincing slightly as though afraid to set off another crying fit.

Anju let out a shaky breath. “We… don’t know, exactly. He’s been gone for a few hours and isn’t answering his phone…”

"He left the hotel in either a taxi or the bus, but we don't know where he went," Zelda added, giving Anju a moment to compose herself. “I think it’s a little too early to be panicking; he could just be stuck in traffic or something.”

“Definitely.” Colin agreed, and Zelda was grateful for the casual confidence in his tone as he added on, “Plus, if he took the subway or something, he could just have no reception. Phone signals are notorious down there. And it’s not like traffic’s ever good in Castleton. I’m sure you’ll hear from him before long.”

"Thanks, Colin," Anju said softly.

“However,” Colin continued, fixing Anju with a serious look. “It wouldn’t hurt to go down to the station and put in a missing person’s report. It’s probably a little early for that, but a little caution never hurt anyone, and at least they’ll have it on record. We can come with you if you like; I know my way around a police station.”

“That… would be wonderful. Thank you.” Anju replied, sounding a little relieved, and Zelda beamed at the younger boy. Honestly, Aryll really was missing out here. Maybe it was her she needed to be smacking some sense into and not Colin.

“I dunno…” Zelda mused, idly stirring her ice cream. “It probably wouldn’t be such a good idea for us to go to the police station… they’d want to know who we are and where we’re from, and I doubt Auru would be too happy to find out we were just randomly there when we ought to be in the hotel…”

“Oh, right…”

“That’s ok. Thanks anyway, guys. I’ll take you back as soon as we’re done eating, ok?”

The sudden fanfare of a news report broke the comfortable silence of the ice cream parlor from the television hung on the wall not too far from them, and the three turned towards the set with mild curiosity. They were met with the smiling face of a middle-aged brunette woman in a sharp pantsuit as she turned to the camera and began, without preamble, “ _Good evening Castleton, we have two breaking news stories to report to you tonight that are developing even as we speak_.”

From across the table, Zelda heard Anju let out a soft breath. _Oh Nayru,_ Zelda thought worriedly, _please don’t let there have been an accident or something_. It wouldn’t be good if they found out that Kafei hadn’t been answering because he was in the hospital… or worse.

“ _First, seven children were reported missing from a local orphanage in western Castleton tonight, officials state….”_

“Whoa!” Colin cried out as the images of the missing kids flashed across the screen. Zelda felt her stomach drop out as the visage of a scowling blonde no older than seven or eight appeared, only to be replaced by a chubby four-year-old boy with dark purple, almost black hair who was unmistakably her brother.

“Oh, how horrible!” Anju gasped, ever the compassionate one. Colin, however, met Zelda’s gaze with an incredulous look of his own.

“Aren’t those…?”

“Yeah,” she replied, a sad feeling sinking into her heart.

“What?” Anju asked confused.

“Those kids… we met them this morning at the museum. Some smelly homeless man was chasing after two of them, but then Link stepped in and saved them. Oh, this is so sad… I hope they’re ok.”

“You don’t think that homeless man attacked them, do you?” Anju asked, her tone guarded.

“Dunno. But we can add that to the list of things you need to tell them at the police station tonight.” Colin added matter-of-factly.

“Sounds good.” Zelda hummed, slipping another spoonful of strawberry ice cream into her mouth. Mmm, delicious…

“ _In other news,”_ the TV continued, “ _today marks the one-year anniversary of the Ordon High Massacre that shocked the nation when over forty_ _people lost their lives in a vicious surprise assault on a high school in southern Hyrule._ ”

"Oh man, I don't need to hear this," Zelda grumbled, pushing her cup away and turning to Colin. "You guys ready to go?"

“Yeah,” he muttered distastefully, scowling at the screen as he began clambering to his feet.

“ _We have recently learned from sources at a police station that the hero of the Ordon High Massacre, Link Hero, was arrested here tonight in Castleton for theft of a priceless artifact from the Museum of National History_.”

Zelda, who’d been about to shove the last spoonful of ice cream into her mouth, whipped her head toward the television in shock at hearing the announcement, smearing ice cream all over her cheek.

“ _We have been unable to verify exactly what artifact was stolen or whether it was reclaimed. We were able to receive no further comments at this time.”_

Something akin to dread was welling up inside Zelda’s chest as the news anchor began exchanging idle banter with her fake-tanned co-host. It was a nasty feeling, gnawing at her insides, a sort of slow-burning anxiety… the kind she hadn’t felt in a long, long time. About a year, in fact. Fighting down the panic, Zelda turned to face a stunned Colin and Anju, and said, in a steady voice that surprised even her,

“…We need to go. Now.”

"Where?" Colin asked as they raced towards the door, their empty ice cream cups lying forgotten on the table, ignoring the cheerful farewell of the shop owner as they burst out the front door, the bell chiming at their departure.

“What do you mean, where?! The police station of course!” Zelda blurted out.

“Zel, wait! We can’t!”

“What do you mean, we can’t?!” Zelda exclaimed breathlessly as they arrived at Anju’s car. “Colin, I don’t think you heard correctly, but Link just got arrested!”

“Yeah, I did,” he panted, leaning against the car, “but we just talked about this- we can’t go to the police station, we’d just get in even more trouble. We need to get back to the hotel _now_ before they realize we’re gone and report us missing too. Zelda, what would the police think upon hearing that their suspect’s girlfriend snuck out just before he got arrested? They’ll probably think you’re involved. We need to get back to the hotel ASAP.”

“But-!”

“Zelda, he’s right.” Anju cut in, looking apologetic. “Look, don’t worry; I’m going to the police station about Kafei. I’ll tell them about the kids and the hobo and I’ll text you about Link, ok?”

“I…” Zelda mumbled, feeling defeated and frustrated at her own defeat. “…ok, fine! So then how are we going to get back?”

"We'll take a taxi," Colin said, catching Zelda's arm and leading her away. "Don't worry, I'll put it on my dad's card and explain it all when we get home."

“But I…” Zelda started, but Colin had a firm grip and was steering her toward the street.

“Don’t worry, Zelda! I’ll call you as soon as I get there, ok?” Anju called, already getting into her car.

Grimacing, Zelda shook her hand from Colin’s grip and turned her attention to the matter at hand. Dislike it as she might, Colin was right. First things first; getting back to the hotel without getting caught, then she could worry about Link.

Nayru, but this was bad. Kafei gone, seven missing orphans, and to top it off, her boyfriend got arrested while she was breaking curfew by sneaking out of the hotel in the dead of night. Well. Wasn’t this turning into a lovely field trip?

* * *

“Look, I said it wasn’t me!”

“Yeah yeah, we’ve heard it all before, kid, you’ll have to do better than that.”

“But it _wasn’t_ me! Light, I didn’t- I don’t even know what you’re talking about!”

The older officer with the dark aviators and the too-small uniform snorted derisively and tossed his head, but the younger, with the silly mustache who was sitting across from Link at the table in the interrogation room, leaned forward with an intent look on his face and said fervently, “Link, we want to believe you, we do. But you’ve got to give us something to go on here.”

Link mentally scoffed. The good cop/bad cop routine? Seriously? They actually did that? Wow. Maybe TV wasn’t totally useless after all… but now wasn’t really the time to be thinking about that.

“I did give you something.” Link grated through his teeth, a murderous look in his eye. “And I’ll say it again if that’s what it takes to get it through your thick skulls. I spent all day in the museum with my class. I spent all evening in the hotel, _with my class._ There have got to be at least sixty people who can testify that I was chilling in the lobby tonight if you need them to. And hasn’t the hotel got security cameras or something?”

Honestly, this was ridiculous. There was that small, rational part of Link that was terrified because oh-Goddesses-I-just-got-arrested, but for the most part, he was just frustrated. Like, seriously… It was so obviously not him that it made his head hurt. He lifted his left hand to rub his temples, but his wrist was handcuffed to the table and stopped short with a jerk. He had to stop himself from growling at them; acting like a feral animal wasn't going to help the situation any, but good Farore he wanted to.

The two officers didn’t say anything, simply examining him silently through guarded eyes.

Sighing, Link leaned back against the uncomfortable metal chair, stretching his legs out under the table and placing his forearms on the dark grey table top. The yellow light from the solitary light bulb above him reflected off the opaque glass that made up most of the wall to his right. A lifetime of avid film watching had drilled into his head that this was the one-way window that led toward the room where the other detectives and a quirky psychological expert were more than likely debating over the way he composed himself and making plans on how to get him to confess. He wondered if it actually worked that way in reality; somehow, he doubted it.

“Ok, listen.” Link said after a moment, trying to hide his impatience and sound reasonable. “Maybe it would help if you told me what was even stolen. Or maybe why you think I’m the guy who did it. Isn’t there some law that says you can’t hold somebody in jail without probable cause or something? There’s gotta be some reason for why you think it’s me, right?”

The two fallible upholders of the law that stood before him didn't exactly have a good track history of listening when Link spoke (unless it was to tell him in the police car every time he opened his mouth that he had the right to remain silent and yadda yadda all that junk), so it startled him when they both reacted to his request by grinning manically.

“Oh, you wanna see the evidence, Mr. Hero?” said the surly one, barely managing to hold on to his glee. “It’s a real doozy, kiddo. You sure you’re ready for it?”

Link frowned; this guy acted more like a school ground bully than a police officer. He had a nagging feeling that he wasn’t exactly dealing with Castleton’s ‘best and brightest’ here. He’d more than likely been delegated to two of the station’s reject cops because they realized that they really didn’t have a case and would just have to let Link go. That was a comforting thought, though he almost felt bad for the two officers; this was probably the most exciting thing the two of them had ever done.

After a moment, Link shrugged as if to say ‘why not?’, and the chubbier officer grinned.

“Alright then. Officer Poe, if you would…?”

Eyebrows lifted in an ‘oooh, you’re gonna get it!’ kinda way, the self-entitled ‘good cop’ got to his feet and headed to the door. He was gone for maybe a few seconds before walking back into the room, dragging a television on a cart behind him, the wheels squeaking on the linoleum floor.

“Officer Station, would you be so kind?” Poe asked, smirking evilly.

“Why, I don’t mind if I do!” Station replied, and with one last haughty glance at Link, he plucked up the remote and pointed it at the tv, turning it on.

Link yawned. Well, this ought to be interesting enough.

The screen fizzled for a second, in traditional bad 70s technology style, then focused on a slightly blurry black and white nighttime image of a room. The clock on the corner of the screen read 7:14 PM.

“Um…?” Link asked, confused, and one of the officers shushed him, enraptured with the staticky image.

Annoyed, Link decided not to ask what he was supposed to be looking at and just try to figure it out for himself. There appeared to be several roundish objects on the walls, and a few shelves in the middle of the room, which wasn't very large. It was long and narrow and seemed to have very tall walls to showcase whatever it was that was hanging on them, but Link couldn't quite make it out yet. Pictures? Were there any rooms in the museum that showed a bunch of little pictures? Link couldn't remember exactly, but he didn’t think so. Not any he had been in, at least.

Wait… no, those weren't shelves, those were display cases. Glass display cases. He could see little lights reflecting off them, presumably from out in the hallway. Now, where had he seen glass display cases…?

And then he remembered: he _had_ been in a room with glass display cases. He’d tried on fake masks there with Medli, Makar, and Marin. And that meant that the things hanging from the walls weren’t pictures, they were masks.

 _Well, I guess that means I can’t even deny having ever been in that part of the museum,_ Link thought bitterly _, but that doesn’t mean that I stole anything…_

At that moment, a figure stepped into the room.

Link squinted, trying to make out what the person looked like, but the image was too blurry to see clearly. With calm purpose, the person strode down the short walkway between the glass cases and the masks displayed on the wall, not paying attention to anything save for the case he was approaching, the one located just in front of the security camera.

It was close enough for Link to make out that it was a young male, about his age, with dark clothing and messy hair, but that was about it; not enough to point fingers at Link, surely. The figure, whoever he was, pulled what looked to be a crowbar from his pant leg and jammed it into the part of the case where the top surface met the side and began prying. Link waited for an alarm to go off, but nothing happened. In a matter of moments, the case was open and the figure reached into the case and plucked out the mask that had been held within.

Link recognized it immediately; vaguely heart-shaped and with odd spikes coming out of the top and sides, the mask bore the image of freakishly huge yellowed eyes and a creepy assortment of tribal tattoos. Link remembered reading over the description earlier that day but hadn't been invested enough to commit any of it to memory. Honestly, all he remembered about it was that it was the star attraction in the imported mask display from Termina, and that its name started with an ‘M'.

Before he could get sidetracked trying to remember the name, the image on the screen unexpectedly cleared and Link got his first real look at the thief right as he turned toward the camera and grinned.

Link felt his stomach drop out.

It… it was _him!_

Everything, the grin, the hair, the jawline, the ears, everything… was exactly the same as Link. Were it not for the fact that Link knew that he hadn’t been anywhere near the museum that night, he would have believed it was him himself.

But… how?! How was this even possible?! How could he be on camera robbing the museum if he hadn’t done it?! What sort of voodoo witch magic was this?!

The Link doppelganger on the screen was still grinning as the image froze in place, his eyes seeming to glow in the poor lighting of the mask room, his smirk practically reaching through time and space to taunt Link in his temporary prison cell.

Link probably should have schooled his features, but he couldn’t seem to wipe the look of pure shock off his face as the officers turned to face him, triumph obvious in their eyes.

Station, who was holding the remote that had paused the footage, shot a cocky glance at his comrade and said, with palpable snark, “Heh, not so smug anymore, is he?”

“Mmm,” the second replied, smoothing out his mustache.

Link said nothing, still staring at his reflection on the screen.

“Well, why don’t we give Mr. Hero here a few minutes to consider his situation, eh Poe?”

“Sounds good, Station.”

Chuckling, the two men turned and strode from the room, letting the door swing shut behind them with a shuddering crash and leaving Link alone with his thoughts and the mocking image on the television screen.

Working moisture back into his mouth, Link swallowed painfully and ran his free hand through his hair, taking several deep breaths through his mouth. _Oh light, this isn’t good… That guy in the video, he looked just like me! But what…? I didn’t do it! I was with my friends the whole night! They have to know that, right?!_ The hotel surely had cameras that could validate his statement, and his friends would back him up! This wasn’t over! He was not going to jail!

But… who was that person? Why did he look just like him? What did this mean…?

His mysterious evil twin shows up on the anniversary of the Ordon High Massacre and frames him for the robbery of a museum based on the exploits of the Hero of Time? This was no coincidence. Something was going on, something that had to do with the Hero of Time… But what? And how? Ganondorf was dead. Link had beaten him. It was over… wasn’t it?

Link turned his hand over and gently tugged at his black glove, revealing the glowing golden Triforce mark on the back of his fist. The gentle light was like a calm reminder that no matter what happened, he could face it. The Goddesses were with him. He was their champion. He would see things right.

…He just needed to figure out what was going on first.

He tugged fitfully at the handcuff for a moment with a discomfited frown on his face; dang thing was chaffing. If only he could get them to take it off, it’s not like he was dangerous…

Maybe he should have called a lawyer.

A soft weight pressed itself down on Link’s shoulder.

“Well, now isn’t this simply delicious?” A soft, effeminate voice whispered silkily into his ear, the breath tickling his hair.

With a yelp, Link jerked forward in his seat and whirled around, wildly searching for the source of the voice.

Nobody was there. The room was empty.

Link’s heart was pounding erratically in his chest. Clenching his jaw, Link forced himself to turn around and face the TV. The stress must be getting to him, that was all. He needed to focus. Fidgeting nervously like a guilty person wasn’t going to get him out of here any faster-

When his eyes landed on the person leaning up against the television screen, Link let out another hoarse shout, jerking as far back in his chair as he could before his cuff restrained him.

The man, if that was indeed what he was, smirked at Link devilishly, a disturbingly coy look in his eyes. Link gaped at the man like a fish. Who…? How…? _What in the world was he wearing?!_

“I see my impressive visage has once again left you speechless, Hero,” the figure tittered, lifting one spangled, gloved hand up to flick his snow-white hair out of his face. "Do not feel ashamed; the mere sight of my exquisite physique has brought greater beings than you to their knees in adoration…"

Well… Link didn’t know about ‘exquisite physique’, but the person, whoever they were, was certainly attention-grabbing. He wore what looked like a full-body sleeveless spandex unitard that was strikingly white with diamond shapes cut out all over the legs and torso, showing off his disturbingly pale yet oddly muscular body underneath. His gloves, which extended to the elbows where they tapered off in points also had diamond patterns cut out of them, and he had cinched about his waist a golden sash with a blood-red jewel that was, you guessed it, diamond shaped. Link wondered for a moment if it was real.

The strange man also had on a dark red velvet cape that looked shredded near the end, and the inside was patterned with golden diamonds, giving the man the look of an oddly regal circus performer. Weirdest of all was his hair; white as the driven snow, his bangs hung down, completely obscuring the left half of his face, leaving only one ruby iris and half of his demonic smirk showing.

Link swallowed dryly, searching for his voice.

“Uh… Who are you supposed to be?”

The figure’s eyebrow rose in surprise.

“What? You forgot? What a boorishly simplistic memory you have. It is I… Lord Ghirahim.”

There was a beat as if the man expected Link to react to this new information, but when Link made no comment he ‘tsked’ in a dissatisfied manner and flicked his hair out his face again.

“Well. Never mind that then. I see you’re in quite the predicament, Hero.”

Link gave the handcuff another tug and scowled up at the man. “Yeah. Wanna tell me what you have to do with it?”

A grin crept across Ghirahim’s face and he placed a hand on his hip, examining Link with interest. “Well, now we do have some spark, don’t we? Peace, Hero. No need to bite. I’m merely here playing messenger boy, as it were.”

“Do what now?”

“Pay attention. I haven’t time to repeat this twice.” Strutting away from the table, Ghirahim, whoever he was, paced the length of the one-way window, examining it with interest. Or rather, examining his reflection. “I offer you a choice. You must decide now. Your answer may affect the fate of the world… You must be feeling _so_ very important.”

“What are you talking about?” Link asked, turning in his chair to follow his pacing, not wanting to take his eyes off the mysterious figure. “And mind telling me who ‘Lord Ghirahim’ is and how in the Goddesses’ name you got in here?”

Link gasped as Ghirahim’s hand grasped his hair from behind and slammed his head back against the table. What? But- how?! He was right there in front of him a second ago! How’d he get behind him?!

“Not by _their_ name, Hero.” Ghirahim seethed venomously, their cheeks centimeters apart. “Never _their_ name.” For a terrifying moment, Link thought he was going to lick his ear, sharp pain arching through Link’s neck and spine, but then he was gone again.

Panting, Link jerked upright, casting his eyes about for the psychopath. He found him leaning up against the furthest wall in the interrogation room opposite the door, his arms crossed across his chest, glaring up at Link through his bangs.

“I’ll forgive your indiscretion this time. Take care that it does not happen again.”

“I… but… what…?!”

“Now, as I was saying, I offer you a choice. Tonight, you’ll be receiving a long-awaited visit from an old foe. He comes to seek his revenge on one who once thwarted him. He comes for you, Hero.”

“Great.” Link muttered, subconsciously straining against his handcuffs again, desperately wishing he was free of his shackles. “Thanks for the heads up.”

Din, where did those police officers get to?! Was nobody paying attention to this?!

“Mmm," Ghirahim replied, though he clearly wasn't done. "Your choice: you may choose to face this threat, endangering yourself in one more futile battle against the endless march of fate, or you may choose to wait it out here in the relative safety of this squalid prison cell. Choose wisely… oh, but do remember: choosing to fight means accepting my help in getting out of here, but choosing to remain… means putting all your little loved ones in harm’s way.”

Ghirahim sneered dementedly and examined Link much in the same way a cat examines a cornered rat.

Link felt a cold sweat break out over his body; accept this freak’s help?! What in Farore’s name did that mean? Was choosing this… _thing_ any better than choosing death itself? But then… if he didn’t choose… what of his friends? Aryll? Zelda? Granny?

 _Why?!_ Link raged at the heavens, suddenly irritated, _Why is this happening again?! I did your dirty work! I’ve been through Hell, I saved the world! What more can you possibly ask of me?!_

Before he could blink, the world went white, and Link remembered…

_An ethereal forest… golden light… a little girl with a reed flute…_

_And a warning from the Goddess Farore herself._

_"…Your destiny is not yet over, Hero. There is a great and ancient evil in the land, one whose memory has all but been wiped from the_ _world, and it is rising once more… when the time comes for you to take up your heroic mantle once more, you must seek out your other half, for without it you cannot hope to win. She is the key to your victory.”_

Link blinked, confused. He had had… a vision? No… No, a memory… a memory of a dream, that had been hidden from him until the time was right… Until he needed to act…

Find his other half… He hadn’t understood her then, but he did now. He knew what he had to do. Well… part of it.

“Do try not to doze off, Hero. This is really quite serious.” Came Ghirahim’s dry voice from beside the TV. He had moved again.

“I… What do you mean, accepting your help? How can you get me out of here?”

The strange man grinned savagely. “I take it you’re agreeing to my offer?”

“I want to hear your plan first.”

“It’s simple," Ghirahim instructed, waving his hand through the air. A jet-black stone materialized over the table, slowly setting itself down into the scratched metal. It sported several jagged edges, though seemed to be made up of three segments, and the edges almost seemed to glow a faint orange. The pigment of the rock was so dark it seemed to suck in the surrounding light.

“All you must do… is touch the stone.”

Link drew back, feeling a sense of foreboding coming from the object Ghirahim had somehow magically summoned into thin air… but then, that must have been how; he used magic. That was also how he was teleporting. This shouldn’t be news; he’d seen Zelda do it, and so had Ganondorf there at the end in Sahasralah’s office. But somehow, Ghirahim using magic seemed all the more foreboding. Bizarre and eccentric to the max though he be, he gave off the aura of one who was terribly capable.

Seeing the look of discomfort on Link’s face, Ghirahim sighed impatiently and said, slowly walking towards the door, “If I were you, Hero, I’d act soon. Those foolish mortal guards ought to be back any moment now, and it would be a shame for them to see you trying to escape.”

“Huh?” Link asked, confused.

With an amused laugh, Ghirahim raised a solitary hand and snapped his fingers. One of the links on his handcuffs suddenly snapped, leaving him with one of the cuffs still attached to his wrist and a few dangling links that jingled as he moved.

Link stared in shock, and with his attention occupied, Ghirahim vanished, his mocking cackle echoing off the walls of the tiny room. Before Link could wrap his mind around what happened, the doorknob began to rattle.

“I- huh?! Who’s the dimwit who locked the door? Hey Poe, grab those keys!”

Link blanched. If those cops walked in and saw that his handcuffs were broken…!

Casting aside his fears and better judgment, Link lunged forward and grasped the stone in his hand.

The world went black.

* * *

Wrapping her arms nervously around her midsection, Anju Potts entered the Central Castleton Police Station, feeling terribly out of place. She’d never actually been inside of a police station, and though she’d seen them loads of times on those TV drama’s Kafei teased her so much for watching, she’d never given much thought to what one looked like in reality.

If she was being honest, it was a little underwhelming. She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting, but the lobby felt a great deal like the DMV; a lot of grumpy people being forced to wait for long periods of time on uncomfortable chairs.

As she walked into the center of the lobby, nervously trying to decide what to do (did she just walk right up to the receptionist and ask? Was there some sort of number-pulling system? Why didn’t television dramas show you important things like this?!), she noticed a tall, broad-shouldered gentleman with graying hair and a frazzled disposition talking in hushed tones with an officer who didn’t seem to be too happy with him. There was something oddly familiar about the man…

The officer made a curt statement and left the older man standing alone near the reception desk, a despondent slump to his shoulders. As he turned to face Anju, running a tired hand through his thinning hair, a lost look on his face, she felt her heart leap. She knew that man! It was Mr. Auru!

“Auru!” she called out, delighted, hurrying forward. There was something about finding somebody you knew that made strange, intimidating places seem less frightening.

He glanced toward her, curious, and she could see the blank look on his face as he took her in without recognizing her.

“Um… yes? Can I-?”

“Mr. Auru, it’s me- Anju.”

He still looked confused. She sighed, unable to feel anything but affection for Ordon’s most popular teacher. “I graduated last year… Kafei Dotour’s girlfriend?”

Recognition bloomed in his eyes, and he grinned broadly, delight casting away the gloom that had shadowed his face a moment before. “Why- Miss Potts! I hardly recognized you! I… what are you doing here at this ungodly hour?”

Anju grimaced. “Well… I-“

From somewhere within the police station, a woman let out a blood-curdling scream.

She and Auru whirled simultaneously to face the rest of the police station that extended beyond the front desk. Most of it was obscured behind walls or doors or blinded windows, the deeper confines held down hallways and the like, and Anju couldn’t see what the source of the commotion was, but it seemed to be getting everyone’s attention.

From somewhere towards the back came the sound of frantic shouts and angry screams, smashing, banging, breaking glass, and every other kind of cacophony you could think of. Also, scratching. There was definitely something scratching against the dirty tiled flooring… But what?

Other officers and workers had moved to see what all the noise was about, and several of them let out gasps of surprise or bewildered exclamations. There was another shout and a crash down the hall, and the small crowd that had gathered to see what was going on began desperately tripping over each other to get out of the way.

A large, grey blur burst from the hallway, bumping into a woman who let out a terrified, tossing a manila folder into the air and scattering papers like snow. The thing that had emerged from the hallway had slammed into a desk with a whimper, upsetting a wastebasket, and ambled in slow circles, seemingly disoriented.

“Somebody, catch that thing!” an angry voice bellowed from within the station, and the animal, which looked to Anju to be the largest dog she had ever seen, started as if frightened and began scrambling to get away. Well, she could finally put a name to the scratching sound; it was the dog’s claws scratching on the tile, vying for traction.

But what was such a large dog doing running loose in the police station? Was it a drug dog? But then why was everyone shouting and scrambling like they were afraid? And that dog… it really was too large to be a dog…

A man made a swipe for the creature and it let out a savage snarl, teeth glistening dangerously under the electric lighting, snapping its jaws and forcing the man to yelp and jump back.

 _It’s a wolf…_ Anju realized, her blood turning to frost in her veins. There was a wolf, a real-life, bear-sized _wolf_ trapped with her in the police station… and it looked feral.

There was a loud bang, and the tile behind the wolf chipped, eliciting more screams and a shrill whine from the creature, and a voice yelled from within the building, “Don’t shoot, you idiot! You could hit somebody!”

In the confusion and chaos, the wolf’s gaze turned and locked on hers, and her breath caught. They were a startlingly clear cobalt blue. She felt her legs turn to jelly as its ears perked up and it began running… _towards her_.

She felt Auru seize her by the arms and pull her to the ground with a hoarse shout right as the massive animal reached the secretaries desk. In a single bound it leaped atop the wooden piece of furniture and launched itself clear over Anju and Auru’s heads, landing on the floor behind them with a heavy thud and bolting towards the front door which, as luck would have it, just happened to open as someone outside tried to make their way in. With a flick of its tail and a hoarse shout from the person outside, the animal vanished into the night.

Panting heavily, Auru scrambled to his feet and said, in a dazed sort of way, “What in Farore’s name was _that?_ ”

Anju didn’t know how to answer. It wasn’t until later that she remembered that the wolf had been wearing a handcuff on his foreleg.

 

 


	5. A Night at the Museum

The only thing stopping Midna from turning around right that second and returning to the hotel was the fact that she had no idea how to get back.

Hey, Castleton was a big place, full of lots of winding streets and tall, shining buildings. Everything looked exactly the same. How these people lived here, she’d never know, but how people got around after dark was even more perplexing. And all the traffic… How was there this much traffic at midnight?! Why weren’t these people at home sleeping or watching reruns of Family Guy like sane Hyruleans?! What could they possibly be doing out on the road this late at night?

 _Maybe they’re trying to break into a museum…_ came the grouchy, sarcastic voice of her inner narrator. Well, perhaps they were. If so, they really sucked at it, because there was nobody here but them.

Maybe that was the part that was giving her the heebie-jeebies. Not the curfew breaking, not risking suspension (or expulsion) from school mere weeks away from graduation, not the possibility of lawbreaking, or the fact that her boyfriend was likely facing jail time by even being in the vicinity of the Museum…  No, the thing that was bothering her was how alone they were.

There was literally nobody else in sight. The parking lot was abandoned. Nobody passed by on the streets. Even the closest cars were the ones on the highway, driving too fast to take notice of the gaggle of teenagers staring up at the government-owned historical center, contemplating the performance of illicit activities. She almost wished they would notice. Maybe then the rest of them would get spooked out, and they could go back to the hotel.

The six teens were crouched behind a row of properly groomed hedges at the fringe of the large patio that sat in front of the museum. The bus they’d taken from the subway had dropped them off on the opposite side of the building than the one they had entered earlier that morning, but they’d crept their way around to the front, both because it was more familiar to them and because they were likely trying to buy more time. Sheik had been all about marching right up and breaking down the door, but Midna had convinced them to scope the building first, looking for security. Her hope had been that they’d be scared away after they’d seen the first guard; her hopes had fallen through when she’d realized they were completely alone.

Scowling bitterly, Midna dug her fingernails into the cold earth and wracked her brains for a way out of their predicament. Sheik wasn’t in a cooperative mood. Of the other four nutcases in their party, the only one with any common sense (i.e. Aryll) had decided to give up her sanity in exchange for a futile, outward demonstration of fraternal loyalty. This left her as the last sane man standing, with the sole responsibility of keeping them out of jail. Lovely.

“Why is it so quiet?” Marin whispered from where she was stooped on Aryll’s other side. A cricket chirped somewhere off in the distance, the only sound aside from the occasional gust of wind and the cars on the distant highway.

Midna rolled her eyes. “Well, that’s what happens at night time when all the people go to sleep.”

“’Tis the calm before the storm… The universe providing dramatic tension to prelude our heroic-“

“That’s not what I meant,” Marin cut in, making Ralph trip over his words and retreat into an embarrassed silence. "I mean, where are all the police? I thought there would be a lot of them here since it's technically a crime scene and all, but… We’re alone.”

Midna opened her mouth to fire another sarcastic response, then hesitated. She was right; there ought to have been a gaggle of police officers here, questioning people, or taking evidence, or… _something_. Like how they do it on TV. And even if they’d finished all of that earlier that night, she would have thought they’d place a few of them here overnight for extra security. Instead, they found the museum basically abandoned. There weren’t even any regular museum security guards patrolling the grounds. If security was this lax, no wonder someone was able to steal something from the museum.

Still, something smelled wrong about the whole scenario…

“Do you think maybe nobody’s home?” Aryll asked, a note of trepidation to her voice, and hope surged inside of Midna; maybe now that they were actually here, the gravity of the situation finally broke through Aryll’s thick skull, and she was rethinking her decision of backing Sheik. Maybe Midna could convince her to turn around and go back to the hotel. There was a light at the end of the tunnel!

“No, someone’s here,” Sheik said softly, his gaze locked on the doors of the museum.

“What? How do you know?” Midna asked, squinting at the doors herself. There was no movement.

“Because. I can see him,” he replied simply.

“See who?”

“Linebeck.”

“Linebeck?!” Midna asked, flabbergasted, almost standing up before checking herself and remaining crouched… Though honestly, she was so short that it didn’t really matter. “Where? I don’t see anybody!”

“There,” Sheik replied, pointing through a gap in the hedge. “In the security booth.”

Midna squinted doubtfully towards the window of the security booth. “Sheik, it’s pitch black out. You’re seriously going to tell me that you can see someone in there?”

“Yes.”

“Actually…” Marin said slowly, widening the gap through the leaves of the plant she was making with her fingers, “I think… He’s right.”

“I don’t see nothin’,” said Groose flatly.

“Me neither,” Aryll echoed from between Midna and Sheik.

“He’s definitely there,” Sheik maintained resolutely.

“Sheik, even if there’s somebody in that booth, how do you know it’s Linebeck?” Midna asked logically. If she was being fair, there probably was somebody in the booth; just because there was nobody outside didn’t mean they didn’t have security inside. That would just be nonsensical. But the museum probably had loads of people on the payroll as security guards; what were the chances that the guy on the booth at this particular door at this particular moment was their one-time portly janitor?

Her boyfriend shrugged nonchalantly. “Well, guess there’s only one way to find out.”

And just like that, he broke through the hedges and began boldly striding up to doors of the museum.

Midna would have screamed were she not trying to keep quiet. As it were, she gestured violently with her hands, tore off several branches of the hedge, and let out such a torrent of hissed curses and oaths that even Ralph looked at her askance.

Honestly, was he _trying_ to get himself arrested?! What part of this seemed like a good plan? Since when was it her job to remain cool and level-headed? _She_ was the brash, impulsive one in the group! You see what happens when you put her in this position? Everything falls to-!

Midna felt her stomach drop out. Sheik had reached the window, raised his fist, and began loudly banging on the glass.

“Ok, we gotta go,” Midna breathed, and the others agreed instantly.

Gathering up her wits, Midna rose from her crouch and pushed her way through the hedge, Aryll and Marin following close behind. Ralph emerged a second later with Groose, who hissed, “I thought you meant _leave_!”

Midna ignored him. Hurrying forward, her shoes tapping softly against the red stone bricks beneath them and the shadows cast from the orange street lamps ghosting along before them, Midna quickly caught up to her boyfriend, who was calmly examining the darkened glass of the security booth.

“Sheik,” Midna hissed violently, grabbing at his arm and digging her nails into his flesh for emphasis, “ _have you gone completely insane?_ ”

He winced, but smiled lightly and said, “Probably.”

“Seriously, what did you hope to accomplish with this?!” It was hard to yell when you were trying to keep your voice down, but she was doing a darn good job of it.

“This,” he replied, nodding towards the door.

Turning her head, Midna felt her jaw drop open. Emerging from the darkness behind the glass, inserting a key into the lock of the door, was the thunderous face of one ex-janitor Linebeck.

“Wait,” Midna blurted out quickly as the door pushed open and he prepared himself for whatever he was going to say, “Wait. It’s really you? You’re really here? Out of all the janitors in the museum, _you’re_ the one who answers? I… This… I’m confused.”

Sheik was smirking. “Told you so.”

“First of all,” Linebeck said, ignoring Midna and taking in the six of them with a foreign look of disdain on his face, “security guard, not janitor. And second, _what in Farore’s name are you doing here?!_ It’s after midnight, and you’re going to make me lose my job! I’m in no mood for entertaining whiny brats, and you’re already on security cameras, so it’s best if you leave now before-!“

Sheik slapped his hand against the glass of the window, causing everyone in the vicinity, Linebeck included, to jump.

“Why did you do it?” her boyfriend cut in harshly. Of the two, Linebeck was certainly bigger, but Sheik was still somehow managing to loom over the older man. His blood-red irises gave him an added advantage when it came to intimidation. Linebeck swallowed involuntarily, then scowled and tried to rally.

“Don’t interrupt me, emo! My boss could come along any minute now-!“

Sheik slapped his hand once more on the window, reducing Linebeck to furious splutters.

“Oh, come off it,” Sheik snapped disdainfully. “You’re lucky it was me banging on the window and not one of your co-workers; you were passed out in that chair, snoring away without a care in the world. I may have just saved you your job, so why don’t you shut your ungrateful mouth and answer me!”

Linebeck's face was growing redder and redder with every word Sheik spoke, and he was trembling from pent-up rage. He never did have a good temperament, that Linebeck. His thin, shoulder-length salt-and-pepper hair was askew, probably from sleeping in his chair, and his goatee was frizzy. His heavy scowl and bulbous red nose only served to make him look comical, not threatening. His eyes were red-rimmed and hollow, likely from exhaustion; if he hadn’t left the museum since they’d seen him that morning, she didn’t blame him for passing out in the booth. Still, now wasn’t the time to be sympathetic.

“Why did you do it? Why did you frame Link for the robbery? And after he saved your life!”

“I- what? Frame? I didn’t frame anybody, you little-!” He bit off whatever he was going to say with supreme effort and took a deep, calming breath. Or the facsimile of one. “… Listen, emo, the Kid’s a good guy, I’ll give you that, but if he wants to go around being a criminal, that’s not my problem. Let the police deal with it, it’s their job. And besides, _he_ didn’t save my life, so you can stop the guilt trip. It ain’t working.”

Sheik was furious; his face was nearly as pink as Linebeck’s, and his whole body was quaking with fury. Deciding a little peer-intervention was needed before Sheik tried to tackle Linebeck through the glass door, Midna spoke up.

“Linebeck, it wasn’t Link. It _can’t_ have been Link. He was with us the entire day; when would he have even had time to sneak off down here and steal something? And why would he anyway? This is _Link_ we’re talking about! You know him! He wouldn’t do that!”

“Listen, Sparkles,” Linebeck said, adopting one of those calm, adult, lecturing tones that she loathed so much. “I like the Kid, I do, but it’s out of my hands. I saw the footage, and there’s no mistake – that’s the Kid alright. No doubt about it.”

“Footage?”

“Can we see it? Please?” Aryll cut in suddenly, her voice quiet and hopeful.

Linebeck blinked, caught off-guard at the change in tone. “Can you…? Of course you can’t see it! What do you think this is, a playground? Kiddies aren’t supposed to be here this late at night! Now all of you get out before one of the patrols come by and we all get carted off to jail for interfering in a police investigation!”

“What patrols?” Midna asked.

“The other security guards, Sparkles,” Linebeck said flatly, shooting her a dull look. “What, did you think we were alone out here?”

“… What security guards?” Marin asked from behind Midna.

“What-?! T-the other security guards that you all snuck past to get in here!”

The six teenagers exchanged looks.

“Um… Linebeck? There aren’t any security guards out here,” Midna said awkwardly. “Nobody’s out here. We walked around the whole building just to make sure. It’s just us and whoever’s inside.”

Linebeck looked nonplussed. “I… They… Nobody’s out there?”

“Nope,” Sheik said, an edge of anger still in his voice.

“But…” he trailed off, looking confused, before snatching up his walkie-talkie and speaking into the receiver. “This is the booth, over. Is anybody out there? Requesting confirmation. Over.”

There was a static crackle, then nothing. Linebeck tried again, and again, but with the same result. Looking baffled and mildly fearful, he switched the frequency and fired off another message, which again went unanswered.

“That proof enough for you?”

“But I…” Linebeck trailed off, staring at the black radio in his hands. “I don’t get it… Where’d everybody go? Did we get the night off, and nobody told me?”

“You were probably sleeping,” Sheik said impatiently. “Now are you gonna let us in or not?”

“No, I’m not going to let you in! Why should I anyway?! What would be the point in-?!”

Sheik exploded. “Because it’s the right thing to do! Because thanks to you, an innocent guy is in jail and may have the rest of his future ruined! And because even if he didn’t save your life _directly_ , I did! And you owe me one! So get off your high horse, you misappropriated sack of corpulence, and let us in!”

It occurred to Midna that while her vocabulary was finally starting to rub off on her boyfriend, it wasn’t exactly a victory until she taught him exactly what those words meant and how to use them… Thankfully, Linebeck didn’t seem to know either. The older man was spluttering in self-righteous indignation, apparently brought to incoherence at Sheik’s little outburst, and Midna was again grateful that there was nobody around to hear her boyfriend’s excitable shouts.

Finally, after an eternity of quaking and grumbling, Linebeck moved; to her immense surprise, he took a step back and pulled the door all the way open, ushering them in. As she passed by him from the chilly night air into the more-or-less warm confines of the spacious atrium, she heard Linebeck grumble something along the lines of, “Prove you wrong, disrespectful brats…”

Midna could have laughed for joy; they did it! They found Linebeck and got into the museum! Somehow, Sheik’s totally hapless and nonsensical, made-up-as-they-went plan worked! Who could have guessed?! It was mind-boggling! Zelda would be having conniptions if she-!

Oh, Nayru.

Midna froze where she was standing as Linebeck locked the door behind them, still grumbling, and the other teens awkwardly milled around like lost sheep. Aryll was the first to notice her expression of horror and asked, “Mid, what’s wrong.”

“I forgot to tell Zelda!”

From the way Aryll’s eyes widened and her jaw dropped, she hadn’t thought of contacting her brother’s girlfriend either. They were screwed.

“Oh, Din, she’s gonna be so pissed when she finds out Link got arrested and we all snuck out of the hotel in some harebrained scheme to prove Link’s innocence without her!”

“I think she’ll be pissed enough that we thought it was a good idea to do this at all.”

“Yeah, that too…” They exchanged quiet looks.

“So… You wanna call her?”

“What? Nuh-uh, no way. You’re the best friend, you do it.”

“But you’re practically her sister-in-law!” Midna pleaded, feeling desperate. “She’ll be less inclined to kill you!”

“I am not!” Aryll hissed back, looking indignant. “Besides, it was your boyfriend’s stupid plan in the first place! This is your responsibility!”

“Since when am I responsible for his actions?!”

“Since when is Sheik ‘responsible’?!”

Midna’s mouth worked soundlessly; Aryll had her there.

“I…  But… Gah! Alright, fine! I’ll do it! Happy?!” she finally snarled, digging her phone out of her back pocket.

“No,” Aryll grumped morosely. “She’s going to kill us all regardless.”

Linebeck had finally joined them. Giving them a slow once-over and sighing heavily, he muttered, “Alright then, let’s just get this over with. We keep the controls for the surveillance system back here, below the Curator’s office.”

As he started leading them across the atrium, they passed the Great Fairy Fountain, which seemed to glow eerily in the darkness, and towards a room behind the reception desk, Midna scrolled through her contacts list until she found Zelda. Their footsteps echoed throughout the silent museum, the only sound to be heard aside from their ragged breathing. The whole place gave off the feel of a mausoleum; a shrine to house the dead history of their nation. It gave her the creeps, now that she thought about it.

Mustering up all of her courage, she went to hit the call button.

An effeminate giggle sounded from somewhere behind them, making her pause.

As one, the six intruders and the security guard whirled on the spot, startled and searching for the source of the noise, but they found nothing. The atrium was quiet again.

“Um…” Groose said dully, looking uneasy. “Did you guys just hear…?”

The phone was still held up to Midna’s ear, but she wasn’t paying attention anymore; the call she’d intended to make was all but forgotten.

Suddenly, Ralph cried out, “Up there!”

Following his pointed finger with her eyes, Midna found herself staring at the top of the Great Fairy Statue. There, perched with impossible balance, was the shadowed figure of a person…

Midna rubbed at her eyes in disbelief.

“W-what?!” Linebeck blathered, sounding both enraged and baffled. “How…?! Where…?! When did…?!”

His mouth worked silently for a few moments, battling over which question he wanted to shoot first before finally settling on, “ _How are you doing that?!_ ”

The figure (which could be male or female, she couldn’t tell) chuckled again in that high, clear, effeminate voice. Midna could see well enough in the dim atrium to tell that it had turned its head to regard them, but it didn’t wobble once from where it was perched gargoyle-like atop the statue’s head, a good fifteen feet off the ground. It didn’t answer Linebeck’s question, though.

Sheik stepped forward, suddenly enraged, “Hey! Freak! Were you the one who stole from the museum and got my friend arrested?!”

The figure gave out an unmistakable yawn, stretching its arms lazily over its head, still never wobbling. The supernatural balancing act would have been a sight to behold were she not so terrified. There was a foreboding feeling in the air, and she had a sneaking suspicion that Sheik’s hunch was dead-on. Not that it would have taken Nancy Drew to figure that one out; mysterious acrobats sneaking into museums in the dead of night? What else would they be there for?

When the figure didn’t answer right away, Sheik stepped closer as if to shout again, or worse, try to knock the person off the statue, when it finally spoke.

“Oh, mortals…” it drawled in an amused tone. “So twitchy and fluttery… It’s ever so amusing, the way you waste away your miniscule lives, utterly impotent, squawking futilely against the winds of the world like newly hatched birds in a maelstrom... I never did understand what she saw in you.”

“What…?” Marin mumbled, a confused look on her face. Midna shook her head, equally perplexed. She had no idea what was going on.

“What are you talking about?!” Sheik bellowed, indignant. “Hey! Answer me!”

“A shame that I don’t have time to play with you tonight, children,” the voice called down from its perch.  “I have more important guests to attend to. Oh, but it wouldn’t do to leave you unattended, would it? Let’s see… Ah, I have just the little playmate for you. Do try to behave, won’t you, while I’m gone?”

Before they could react, the figure raised a solitary hand, snapped its fingers… and vanished.

Midna blinked in shock.

“Uh…” came Aryll’s unsteady voice from her side. “Did… did you all just see that? I’m not going crazy, right?”

Before her mind could attempt to process what had just taken place above the Great Fairy’s head, there was a sharp crack off to the side, and a strange, eerie sound, like multiple children laughing in discordant harmony. Midna whipped her head in the direction of the noise, her heart pounding in her chest, and tried her best to peer through the darkness. At her side, Aryll clutched her arm.

“Midna,” she breathed, sounding panicky, “what’s going on?”

A sudden light illuminated the darkness where the sound had come from, and the huddled group of confused and frightened friends found themselves staring in bewilderment at the form of a small boy.

For the most part, he looked normal; in smudged tennis shoes and grubby shorts under a black T-shirt with a skull design on the front, he looked the picture of your average outgoing and rebellious ten-year-old… Were it not for the fact that he was hovering about five feet off the ground.

He was illuminated as if by two spotlights that didn’t exist, the light simply emanating from nowhere. But the weirdest thing of all was the mask he wore on his face. It was large, obscuring his entire head, and was vaguely heart-shaped with spikes along the edges and huge, yellow eyes that stared manically into the nothingness around them. The mask was a mess of tribal tattoos, blue and red and purple and green, and was probably one of the most disturbing things she had ever seen… and considering what happened last year, that was saying something.

Midna was so startled by the child’s sudden appearance that she didn’t notice her finger had slipped and hit the call button.

“Hey, kid!” Linebeck suddenly blurted out, fumbling a bit at the ‘kid’ bit, “That mask… it’s Majora’s Mask, the one that got stolen earlier tonight! How’d you get it?!”

Apparently, Linebeck had chosen to ignore the fact that the ‘kid’ was _hovering in midair_.

The boy… flying, mask, thing, creature, whatever… laughed. It was a bizarre, cackling sort of laugh that came out in that same odd, echoing way that it did before… Like a dozen schoolchildren were giggling simultaneously, their chorus of voices eerie and distorted. Turning his masked face to Linebeck, in its echoing voice that still somehow managed to come across as haughty and arrogant, the boy said, “Well. So you recognize my face. That’s a relief. I guess congratulations are in order; you guys seem to know a thing or two about the old legends. And here I thought your kind believed us all to be superstitions and fairytales.”

Riveted as she was on the boy’s words, Midna hardly noticed the sound of the phone ringing in her ear.

“Hey…” the boy said, suddenly righting himself and leaning forward intently as if recognizing them, “I know you! I saw you all this morning!” He suddenly started cackling again, doubling over in amusement. “What, you nerds love this place so much you couldn’t stay away and had to break in here at night?”

Sheik stepped forward, scowling darkly, and jabbed a finger at the boy in the air. “Hey, midget! Shut up for a second and give that mask back!”

The boy cocked his head to the side. “Give the mask back…? My face? You want me to just give it to you? But that’s no fun… Oh, I know! Why don’t we play a game? I love games! Let’s see… Ooh! A test! A test about the Hero of Time! You guys seem to know at least a little about the legends, this should be a breeze for you! If you win, you get the mask. If not…” He trailed off ominously.

Sheik growled, “We’re not here to play any _games_ with you, kid. We’re just here for the mask.”

The phone stopped ringing and a familiar voice on the other end of the line said, “Hello? Midna?”

The masked boy pouted. “Aw, don’t be like that… Games are fun! I thought you’d be excited! I mean, after all, you all seem to love history so much, and…”

The dimly lit room went suddenly pitch black, all except for the mask, which glowed with a haunting purple light.

 “…here I am giving you the chance to become part of it.”

There was wind, and there was cold, but most of all, there was darkness. The world was spinning, her hair was whipping around her, and she couldn’t feel Aryll at her side any longer. Clutching her phone, the only solid thing she could still feel, she cried out, “Z-Zelda…! The museum…!”

And then everything was gone.

* * *

Heart pounding, head racing, and tail wagging, Link Hero sprinted pell-mell down a pitch-black alleyway somewhere in the middle of downtown Castleton. His tongue lolled out the side of his mouth, flapping in the wind as Link struggled valiantly to simultaneously sort through the distorted colors and sounds all around him and still get his motor-functions to work properly.

His paws skittered on dirty pavement, the darkness no longer a hindrance to one with senses as acute as his currently were. Dodging left past a rusted dumpster, he leaped bodily over a pile of broken bottles and tried his best to ignore the stench of rot and refuse now magnified immensely to his canine nostrils.

Link was a dog. A really big dog. Scratch that, he was pretty sure he was a wolf, although to be honest, he'd never really paid much attention to the distinction. One was man’s best friend, and the other was bigger, meaner, and would probably kill you if there weren’t three little pigs or a flock of sheep handy to occupy his time.

He supposed he ought to be grateful that he’d become such a large, formidable creature as opposed to something useless, like a turtle or a snail, but still… He wasn’t too happy about his current predicament.

What a lovely night he was having. First his girlfriend gets pissed at him, then he gets arrested for something he didn’t do, gets a visit from Sir Creeps-A-Lot, who uses flashy demon gypsy magic to turn him into a slobbery mutt, and then leaves him to break out of the police station, dodging bullets and stray vehicles in a body he can’t control.

His first thoughts had been to get back to the hotel, where Zelda was, until he remembered his vision; the dream he’d had, where he’d spoken to the Goddess Farore shortly before awakening from his coma in the hospital last year after the shooting. She’d warned him that something like this was going to happen, and she’d given him explicit instructions: find your other half. He'd forgotten the dream immediately afterward, but it came back to him when he needed it. Find his other half… He knew what that meant. The only problem was… how did he get there?

Bursting from the alleyway, Link turned his head, involuntarily sniffing the air. There were cars, oil, dirt, cement, people, rats, sewage, pot smoke, garbage, fast food, bad cologne, trees…

Wait, trees… He could smell wood, damp soil, and fungi somewhere not too far away. Ears perking up, Link turned his snout and began running south along the sidewalk. A couple of ratty, drugged out teenagers yelped and jumped out of the way as Link barreled past, and try as he might, he couldn’t help accidentally overturning a trashcan and a stack of soggy cardboard. He still needed a lot of practice in this body; it was harder than it looked, running on four legs.

Reaching the intersection, Link hopped up on his hind legs and slapped his paw onto the button that controlled the pedestrian crossing signal. Settling down again, he calmly waited for the light to change, signaling it was safe to cross, panting all the while.

A homeless man sitting next to a business behind him was giving him an odd look, but Link nervously avoided eye contact. Who knew what kind of weirdos were out on the street this late at night?

When it turned green, Link bolted across the street, continuing on his merry way. After a few minutes, the buildings began to taper out, replaced by more rural scenery. Grateful to be off the roads, Link scampered into the shrubbery, letting the shadows and trees cloak him from foreign eyes.

He went for a few minutes before stopping next to a rotted log to think. Alright, which way to the Grove…? He was pretty sure the bus had driven north from the museum, but that didn’t mean much, considering he’d left on his quest from the police station rather than the hotel, which… honestly could have been anywhere. What he needed was a map…

His paw jerked backward awkwardly for a moment before remembering that he was a wolf, and wolves didn't carry electronics or even wear pants for that matter. Even if they did, his phone was still at the police station. Great; of all the times he ignored his Google Maps app, the one time he really needed it, he was a dog. Figures.

Another horrifying thought occurred to him. Even if he managed to somehow find the Grove and make his way inside to the sword… How was he supposed to draw it?! He didn’t have any hands!

Letting out a whine, Link flopped onto the mossy ground, his chin resting on his paws. All well and good for Lord Ghirahim, circus performer extraordinaire, to turn him into an animal to help him get out of jail and then _not tell him how to become human again_. He was really starting to regret deciding to take that guy up on his offer. Something told him he was just bad news.

Well… Maybe he could… Bite the handle? That might work… or it might break his teeth out… Would that sort of thing carry over into his human form?

The trees beside him rustled and Link leaped to his feet, shoulders hunched, fur on end, teeth bared. A figure was approaching through the darkness – a tall, skinny man with pointed ears…

“You’ve met with a terrible fate, haven’t you?” a voice asked softly from the shadows.

Link backed away nervously, ready to pounce or flee if need be. There was something strange about this person, even more than the fact that they were talking to stray dogs late at night in the middle of the woods… It took Link a second to realize what it was; whoever this person was, they had no scent.

Just before Link decided to give in to his instincts and make a break for it, the figure moved out of the darkness and into the little clearing that Link had settled in.

Link felt his jaw drop, which must have looked bizarre seeing as he was a wolf.

It was Mr. Happy, the museum curator.

He looked the same as he had that morning, with the dress slacks and purple-and-gold shirt and his orange comb-over. His hands were still clasped in front of him in a pleading manner, and his squinty eyes and omnipresent smile were fixed on Link.

“Yes… You are under a dark enchantment, aren’t you, Hero?”

Link stiffened. How had he known…? But no. Something in the way he’d said the word ‘Hero’ let Link know it wasn’t his name he was using, but his title. He knew. He knew this wolf was the Hero of Time.

Bowing slightly, the man… the _thing_ continued, “I would offer you help, but what I can give you cannot at the moment receive… And anyway, I am bound… Old treatises, old agreements… You must first ask, Hero. You must ask for the aid you seek.”

Link had no idea what was going on or who this man, person, being was. Why he had no scent. Why he seemed to know who and what Link was. Or how he’d come to be there. What Link did know was that he was done with getting help from strange men. Just look where the last one had gotten him.

Taking a step back, Link shook his head defiantly.

Mr. Happy studied him for a quiet moment. “Yes… Perhaps that is best for the present. You have much yet to do, and the hour is still early… but do remember this, Hero: you are never alone. Help will always come to those who _ask_. Do not be ashamed to do so; you never know when somebody may just need your help in return…”

A high pitched scream split the forest, startling the owls in the trees and the sleeping creatures in their dens. Link’s head wrenched to the left in the direction of the sound, but when he quickly turned his attention back to Mr. Happy, he was gone.

Link blinked in confusion, scanning the surrounding forest with trepidation and finding nothing. Where had he gone? What had he meant, asking for help? When was Link ever the type to do something himself? The events at the end of the shooting floated to the surface of his memory, but he shoved them away. That was different; he didn’t have a choice. But he let others help him when he needed it… Right?

And how was he supposed to ask for help anyway? He couldn’t even talk!

The scream sounded again, and Link started. With Happy’s sudden disappearance, he’d nearly forgotten! Turning on the spot, Link bounded off into the darkness, sprinting towards the sounds of distress.

He arrived at another moonlit clearing only a few hundred yards away and skidded to a halt, horrified. Backed against a tree in the far corner of the clearing was what he thought was a young girl under the age of ten, holding aloft a fallen branch defensively as she huddled against herself and screamed, trying to ward away a small group of nightmarish figures that had surrounded her.

And the figures…

If it weren’t for Link’s improved eyesight and sense of smell, he wouldn’t have believed what he was seeing. As it were, he still almost didn’t believe it, simply because he didn’t _want_ to. There, in the clearing, slowly advancing towards the helpless child with stiff, jerky movements, were a dozen of the most disgusting things Link had ever seen.

Every one of them was like the first; short, maybe three feet tall, they were composed only of bone and hunks of rotting flesh and sinew. No muscle, no clothing, just rotted skin stretched taut over yellow, pitted bone. In the hollows of their eyes glowed a murderous, red, ethereal light that fixed itself upon the girl with dark desire.

Link was numb with shock, but that didn’t stop Mr. Happy’s words from passing through his head one more time.

_You never know when somebody may just need your help in return…_

Without another thought, Link burst into the clearing, snarling viciously to grab the creatures’ attention and snapping his powerful jaws down on the torso of the first.

It wasn’t until he felt it crunch under his teeth that he realized – _he was chewing on dead people_. Coughing, if dogs could be said to cough, Link stumbled backward trying to gag the bitter, putrid taste of bone and decayed flesh out of his mouth.

Glancing up, Link noticed all the creatures had turned towards him. There was a moment’s pause, as though they didn’t know what to make over his sudden appearance, but then one by one they began tottering in his direction.

Fighting down the voice in his head that was screaming like a sixth grader at a horror movie, Link forced himself to move.

Were this impromptu nighttime brawl in the woods occurring over a year ago, he would have lost. Link wasn’t much of a fighter before the events of the Ordon High Massacre, but ever since receiving the Triforce of Courage, it was as though his body simply knew how to move in a fight. His super ninja battle instincts, as he’d taken to calling them, thankfully translated over to his wolf body despite his superficial mark apparently not having done so. He knew how to fight with his paws and massive, bone-crushing jaws. He knew where weak spots were located to aid him in turning the skeletal pygmy monsters from walking nightmares to piles of foul-smelling dust. And he knew how to use the surroundings to his advantage.

Rather than wait for the creatures to make it to him, Link bounded forward, zig-zagging through the group at a speed far faster than they could manage. A few futilely tried to swipe at him with the broken, disease-ridden appendages, but their attacks met only air.

Reaching the back of the pack, Link turned suddenly and seized one of the skeleton’s necks in his mouth, twisting his head violently and decapitating it, crushing the vertebrae into powder beneath his jaws like rancid Smarties.

He didn’t stop there; he swerved and pitted, bit and snapped, ripped and crunched, and left a veritable whirlwind of death behind him.

After what felt like an eternity of the thrilling terror of battle in the dark, filled with glowing eyes and skeletal aberrations straight out of a horror story, Link found himself standing alone in a pile of leaves and dust. The last remnants of bone disintegrated before his very eyes and blew away as a breeze rustled through the trees. Panting heavily, tongue still lolling out of his mouth, Link quickly scanned the darkness outside the clearing and strained his senses, searching for more danger.

Where had those creatures come from? More importantly, _what_ were they?! Skeletons, that much was obvious, but… Skeletons didn’t get up and start moving again; that kind of stuff only happened in the movies and old legends…

Link felt his heart drop. Oh great… the old legends… Link had accepted last year that there was a certain truth to the old legends, in the sense that the Triforce was real, and the Hero of Time, Princess of Destiny, and King of Thieves were all actual people who were constantly reborn whenever the Goddesses deemed them necessary; but the rest of the old legends he had somehow managed to conveniently forget about. Maybe he’d just allowed himself to keep on thinking that they were simply fanciful fairytales and that the reality of the old legends was much more mundane than he’d always been told.

Yet why should they be? Ganondorf _and_ Zelda had both used magic at the end of last year, and his girlfriend continued using it today, trying to learn its secrets. She claimed to have spoken to the Goddess Nayru on a handful of occasions, and the memory he’d reclaimed that night proved that he’d also spoken with a Goddess, Farore. And the appearance of Ghirahim in the police station, the odd black stone that had transformed Link into a wolf, and the vanishing museum curator here in the woods all seemed like giant neon signs pointing out what a giant idiot Link had been, and yet… He still couldn’t seem to wrap his brain around the fact that along with all the other nonsense, monsters might just be real, too.

“Hey, puppy!”

Starting in surprise, Link whirled around, hackles raised and a guttural growl already forming in his throat. Light, _another_ person sneaking up on him tonight?! What was wrong with the world?!

He felt his growl die when his eyes landed on the elfin figure of a small child crawling out from the underbrush. Oh, right; the whole reason he’d burst into this clearing chomping on mini-skeletons like Pacman with a calcium deficiency was because her scream had sent him running in the first place. How could he have forgotten that? Wow, he was really bad at this Hero thing…

As the girl straightened up and faced him, he felt shock wash over him for the umpteenth time that evening. He knew this girl! Link had rescued her and another orphan from a smelly homeless man that morning! Din, what was she doing out in the middle of the woods?!

Tatl, or at least he thought that was her name, looked a little worse for the wear – decked out in the same ratty white sundress and worn flip-flops that she’d had on that morning, Link could see a few new tears along the hem, which didn’t quite manage to cover her bony kneecaps, calloused from days probably spent running around outside. Likewise, her nails on her hands and feet were chipped, and judging by the way the old sundress was browning near the bottom, the orphanage she stayed at was undergoing some financial difficulty.

The girl could have actually been quite pretty under different circumstances; she had a pointed nose and chin like a little elf, bright brown eyes, almost hazel, and golden hair that she held back in a ponytail at the top of her head that fell in natural curls just to her shoulders. A few curly, messy bangs dangled in front of her face. The only thing detracting from her look was the flat, angry scowl on her face and heavy pout on her lips.

Before Link could begin to think on how to react to her appearance, this little orphan child apparently lost and alone in the woods at the dead of night, Tatl spoke.

“Listen. Thanks for saving me and all, but I didn’t need your help. I’m big enough to take care of myself.”

Link blinked, astounded. She’s said something similar that morning, under only a slightly-less ludicrous scenario.

She pressed on, determined and defiant, “But look, since you’re already here and all, maybe you can help me. I’m trying to find my brother Tael; that stupid boy in the skull shirt told him that he saw something in the forest, and they ran off to see it without telling anybody where they went. I tried to follow them, but they were running too fast and I got lo– I mean, _they_ got lost in the dark, and now I don’t know where they went.”

Her cheeks flared pink at her slip up, but it only served to make her scowl even more fierce, as if daring the feral wolf in front of her to call her bluff. When Link didn’t answer right away, she stomped her foot and huffed, putting her hands on her hips and demanding, “Well?! Are you gonna help me or not?!”

The sheer absurdity of the situation seemed to crash down on Link then; not the bit about him being a wolf, but the part that pertained to her.

There she was, a lost little girl, alone in the woods in the middle of the night, who was nearly devoured by real-life zombies, only to be saved at the last minute by the appearance of a wild animal, and the first thing she does is begin making demands of it? Like it was a person? Worse, like that person was her servant.

As if an animal would even know what she was saying! Never mind that he actually was a human and did understand her; she had no way of knowing that! Barring some sort of mental disorder, Link could only assume that she was either delusional due to her traumatic experience or else had watched one too many Disney movies. Either way, it was time to bring her back to reality before she tried talking to something that actually was dangerous, like a bear.

Gathering himself up, Link threw on the most threatening look he could muster; hair on end, legs spread, body lowered, teeth bared, eyes narrowed, and saliva dripping from his mouth as he let loose the beginnings of a vicious snarl. Hey, if you have to play the big bad wolf to teach a little kid a life-lesson, you may as well go all the way.

He expected her to scream and run; he’d ‘chase’ her through the woods, keeping a watch out for any real dangers, and shepherd her until he could find someone who would actually help, and then he’d get back to his search for the Sacred Grove.

The sharp rap he received on his head instead was so unexpected that he cut off his growl with a shrill yelp and flopped on the ground, covering his head with his paws to ward off any other blows.

“Bad puppy!” Tatl scolded crossly, frowning down at him. “You can’t scare me away, so don’t even think about it! I’d just get lost and you’d have to come rescue me again, so nyeh!” She stuck her tongue out at him mockingly. How did she know he was thinking that?!

“Besides, I know what you’re doing out here. I know you’re looking for that dumb sword!”

Oh, for the love of…! Link’s tolerance for surprises for the day was already at its limit. So the lost little orphan girl was also apparently on to the fact that he was the Hero of Time off on a quest for the sacred Blade of Evil’s Bane. Sure. Why not? Anybody else wanna pop outta the woodwork and play a part? Granny Hero?

“Listen,” Tatl said in a stern, no-nonsense tone that sounded odd in that high, adolescent voice. “Let’s just work together for now, ok? I can take you where you need to go. You can help me find my baby brother, and I’ll help you find the sword-thingy you need. We gotta deal?”

 _What happened to being able to take care of yourself?_ Link thought, shooting the girl what he assumed was a wry look. She didn't answer; apparently, her powers of wolf-telepathy were selective…

Well… He might as well. Best case scenario, she’s somehow telling the truth, gets him to the grove, they find her wayward little brother, and he can add protecting defenseless orphans lost in the woods to his ever-growing resume of heroic deeds. Worst-case scenario, he’s lost wandering the woods with an obnoxious little girl. At least taking her with him didn’t diminish his chances of completing his goal and removed the guilt he’d feel for abandoning her. Who knew when more of those monsters would pop up?

He could almost hear Midna’s mocking laughter, teasing him about stupid boys and the ‘Dulcinea Effect’. Did that still count when it was a child?

Rising up to a sitting position, Link met the little girl’s façade of false-bravado for a moment before nodding his head. Let’s just get this over with…

A look of gleeful triumph flashed across the girl’s face and, giggling, she suddenly darted around to his backside and leaped up on his shoulders, causing him to stumble forward. 

Seizing his fur in her hands like reigns, she tightened her legs around his midsection and, riding him like a horse, declared valiantly, “Okay! Let’s go, puppy!”

Wincing at the pain of getting his hair ripped out by grubby child fingers, Link discarded his initial impulse to buck her back onto the ground.

Sure, she could have at least asked before demeaning him like this, but it _was_ the more sensible option, and it’s not like she weighed much. If he made her walk, the trip would take ages; she’d likely trip and fall a half-dozen times in the darkness, and they’d have to stop to take multiple breaks for her to regain her strength. Being the glorified pack mule to a spoiled, stuck-up brat was the lesser of two evils.

But still… As he started off at a slow trot, picking his way carefully through the bushes, he had to wonder if the other heroes of legend were ever treated so unjustly… 

 


	6. Under the Moon

Zelda and Colin were halfway back to the hotel when her phone rang.

“Who could that be?” Colin asked, a slight note of trepidation in his voice from his spot beside her in the backseat of their taxi.

When she’d finally freed the phone from her jeans, she examined the screen critically and muttered, “It’s Midna.”

Hoping she’d get some news about her boyfriend’s arrest, she answered the phone without further delay and said quickly, “Hello? Midna?” Colin looked expectant, even though he was barely visible in the occasional flashes of light from the street lamps and the headlights of passing cars.

On the other end of the line, there was no response. The only thing she could hear was a muffled voice in the distance, too quiet to make out. Zelda frowned, unable to quell a flash of frustration. Sure, she’d been the one too stupid to think about calling Midna or Sheik the moment they’d found out about the arrest, but Midna could have at least had the decency to have called her when she found out as well! Or Sheik, for that matter. Or even Aryll. Instead, she gets a butt dial. Fabulous.

“…Well?” Colin asked, anxiously shifting his weight and clenching his white-knuckled hands on the knees of his white-washed jeans, trying to appear nonchalant.

Zelda shook her head curtly, shooting the underclassman a look that clearly said, ‘shut up, I’m busy’, but as she opened her mouth to try calling out for Midna a second time, a bizarre rattling sound suddenly cut her off. Confused, she pulled the phone away from her ear and stared at it, double-checking that she was still on the line with Midna. Yep, she sure was… What on earth was that girl doing?

“…What is it?” Colin tried again hesitantly, clearly not wanting to annoy Zelda with his questions but impatient for answers all the same.

“Um, I dunno,” she replied blankly. “There’s this weird… Here, listen. All I’m getting is this weird sound.”

She tapped the speakerphone button on her touch screen and held it out between the two of them.

Before Colin could get a chance to hear it though, Midna’s voice suddenly cut in. And she sounded frantic.

“Z-Zelda…! The Museum…!”

Static overtook the line, drowning out Midna’s words… and then the line went dead.

“Uh…?” Colin supplied poignantly.

“That was… weird,” Zelda filled in, feeling uneasy.

“Must’ve just lost the connection. Call her again,” he suggested, sitting back and glancing out the window. Nodding absently, Zelda pressed a few buttons and waited. Rather than hearing a ring, she was greeted with the prerecorded ‘ _I’m sorry, but the number you have dialed is currently unavailable’_ message.

Zelda frowned again, the feeling of unease growing stronger. She tried again. And again. Every time, greeted with the same message. She texted Midna, but she didn’t answer. She even went so far as to call Sheik and Aryll; none of their calls would go through. Every time, she was given the message that they were currently unavailable.

Colin had pulled out his phone to join her, and at her questioning look merely shook his head mutely. So, he was having no luck either… What was going on?

“What was that Midna said when she called? Something about the museum?” Colin asked, a pensive curve to his brows.

“Yeah… and my name. She definitely meant to call me, but…” Zelda sighed, running her fingers through her hair distractedly. “Why would she call me to talk about the museum? Do you think it has something to do with Link’s arrest?”

Sudden concern about the loudness of her voice caught her attention, and she shot the driver in the front seat a worried look; he didn’t seem to have noticed, however, too focused on the game reports coming in through the ancient radio on his dashboard.

“Maybe…” Colin speculated, a distant look to his eye. Whenever Colin focused on solving a problem, Zelda found herself noticing the physical similarities between him and his father, Chief Smith; the furrowed brow, pursed lips, faraway look in his eye... She’d heard him say he wanted to grow up and be a detective someday, just like his dad had been. She had the feeling he’d make it.

After a moment, he turned to her and asked, “Did you remember what the news said Link was arrested for?”

“Well, yeah.” It was kinda hard to forget. “Theft from the… Oh Nayru, you don’t think-?”

“I’m just saying it’s possible,” he replied gently, trying to calm her. “We can’t be sure they went to the museum after Link got arrested to try and clear his name or something, but…”

“But that’s…! That’s…!” Stupid? Idiotic? Suicidal? Something that Midna and Sheik and the rest of the gang would definitely do? All of the above.

Groaning, Zelda let her head flop back against the seatback as she thought. So – either Midna went off to the museum on some incredibly stupid quest to help Link in the dead of the night and called her because she was in trouble… or else her friend was still safe and sound at the hotel, and she and Colin were just overreacting. Which did she assume was correct?

Evidence for one: Midna’s phone call. She definitely sounded hysterical, which was not in Midna’s usual repertoire. That alone was cause for alarm. She specifically mentioned the museum, which was already connected in some way with her boyfriend’s untimely arrest. And judging by the issues she was experiencing with calling her, this problem might actually be serious. Seeing as Sheik and Aryll’s phones weren’t working either, it was likely the two were with her.

Evidence for two: Well… nothing, really, except that most of the evidence she had for one was conjecture… Scenario two was they were where they were supposed to be. Assuming two was correct would lead Zelda and Colin straight back to the hotel, where they belonged, and hopefully prevent them from being suspended or expelled. All in all, assuming option two was correct was the safer and most likely bet.

That being said… She had this nagging feeling in her gut that something was wrong. Were she a normal girl, she’d write it off as jitters, but… Zelda was no normal girl. She was the current incarnation of the Princess of Destiny, bearer of the Triforce of Wisdom. And her boyfriend was the Hero of Time. His sudden arrest on the first night of the Hero of Time Festival seemed highly coincidental. That, and added to Midna’s call, Kafei’s disappearance, the anniversary of the massacre, and this feeling she was having…

As she stared wearily up at the dirty upholstery of the taxi cab’s ceiling, watching the lights dance past on the freeway out of the corner of her eye, she felt a familiar presence tickling the back of her mind.

“… _Daughter…”_

Her eyes shot open and she sat up straight, eyes darting about her.

“ _Daughter,”_ the voice said again, this time more firmly.

Colin gave her a queer look. “What? You think of something?”

“ _Danger befalls the land, Daughter. You must go to the museum. Hurry.”_

Zelda’s jaw dropped. The museum…? Wait, did that mean they were really at the museum?! And there was danger?!

The oh-so-familiar voice, which she knew belonged to the goddess Nayru, didn’t answer; but though it didn’t speak again, she felt its fortifying presence linger. Well, she had her answer. Now how to go about it…?

She didn’t bother questioning whether hearing voices in your head was something worth worrying over; Zelda’s life was far from normal.

“Colin,” she said briskly, facing the boy and steeling herself.

“Zelda?” he replied blankly, obviously baffled at her erratic behavior.

“Listen. I know what we have to do. I’m going to go ahead to the museum just to check that everything’s ok.” Well, more like so she could do her duty to her country as its uncrowned Princess and protector, whatever that might be, but he didn’t need to know that bit. “You go on to the hotel; if they catch you by the museum, it might look bad what with our connection to Link, and I don’t want you getting in unnecessary legal trouble and ruining your future. We can cover more ground if we split up anyway. Call me if you find anything out, okay?”

There. Delivered with perfect calm and confidence. No reason he should doubt her. That took care of him, then. Only… What to do once she got to the museum…?

“Okay,” he replied, surprisingly poised. Huh, she at least expected him to try and convince her to go with him to the hotel… “There’s only one problem with that.”

Yup, here we go… “And what’s that, Colin?” she asked patiently, ready to prepare a perfect argument for why she had to go on to the museum.

“I’m going with you.”

Zelda blinked. “I… what? Colin, you can’t-!”

“Look, Zel,” Colin replied, a rare glimmer of resolve in his eyes. “I don’t know what’s going on, and I don’t think you do either, but… you had this… look… just now. I don’t know how to explain it, but… I’ve seen it before. And I know that when you get that look, I just have to follow you.”

Zelda frowned. She had a look? What look? And then she remembered; Zelda had only heard the voice of the goddess Nayru a handful of times in her life. Always it was to divert catastrophe, and always the moment she heard her voice or received her vision, the plan that she spewed from her mouth sounded utterly nonsensical. Before tonight, she’d only ever heard Nayru’s voice a few times on one particular day… The day of the Ordon High Massacre. And one of those times, she’d been in Colin’s presence.

Taking notice of her awestruck look, he smiled abashedly and said, “Don’t look so shocked. Ever since the shooting, you and Link just… have this thing. It’s like, people want to follow you. You’re a born leader. I trust you, Zelda. If you think you need to go to the museum where our friends may or may not be in mortal peril in the dead of night, risking both expulsion and arrest, then okay. I’m game. You need my father’s credit card to pay for the ride anyway, so you’re stuck with me. No arguments.”

Winking playfully, he leaned forward to address the cab driver and change their destination. As he did so, Zelda examined him thoughtfully. If there was ever a word that could describe Colin Smith, it was loyal. For better or worse, he’d go through hell or high water for those close to him, even if it meant aiding Ganondorf in the shooting just to protect his girlfriend… And now, he considered Zelda friend enough to risk expulsion and legal implications that could tarnish his future as a police officer. All because he trusted in her ‘whims’.

He was a good guy. And she was glad he was by her side again, to face one more potential disaster. That was a sobering thought… Her shoulders slumped, and she turned her attention back out the window into the dark sky. Last time involved a school shooting and the murder of dozens of innocents… What could it be now? A danger serious enough for a Goddess herself to warn her… her Hero imprisoned… and her friends in danger. So many things Zelda didn’t know, but one thing was certain; if Link was out of the picture, somebody had to take his place. Might as well be her.

A small, rebellious smirk graced her lips as Colin settled back into his seat, and the grumpy cab driver made to change lanes; who knew? Maybe she’d be the one to rescue the Hero this time.

* * *

The world coalesced with startling abruptness, and Midna’s feet hit the ground.

Jarred by the impact, she stumbled blindly to her left, her arms waving in panic, and felt herself collide with a wall. Panting erratically, she carefully patted her hands across the wall’s rough and surprisingly damp surface to assure herself that what she was leaning against was actually solid and let her eyes futilely attempt to pierce the murky darkness that surrounded her.

_Oh Din, Oh Din, Oh Din, Oh Din, Oh Din…_

What had just happened? Where was she? First that guy on the statue, then the boy in the mask, and then… darkness had swallowed them. She wasn’t sure how, but she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was no longer in the museum’s atrium. For one thing, there wasn’t a wet stone wall anywhere _near_ the Great Fairy Statue. For another, the atrium was a quiet, slightly chilly location, the kind that had made her almost regret wearing her favorite shorts (although, to be honest, she _never_ regretted wearing those shorts), and now…

Well, wherever she was, it was _loud._ She almost couldn’t think straight through the unmistakable roar of machinery. It sounded like dozens of huge gears turning and cranking and thundering all around her, the sound bouncing uproariously off the walls over and over and over until it collapsed into a jumbled pile of auditory mayhem. Also… was that the sound of splashing water she heard under the cacophony?

For another thing, it was humid… very humid. The moisture on the walls was no doubt due to the sheer amount of water in the air, nearly smothering her. She could feel the old, wooden floor beams slipping beneath her combat boots, and her hoodie was beginning to stick to her arms and shoulders uncomfortably.

She found incongruous anxiety about the state of her hair passing through her head before violently shaking it off. She was spending entirely too much time with Aryll’s friends…

Aryll…

Opening her mouth, Midna cried out over the din, “Aryll?! Sheik?! Where are you guys?!”

There was a pause, in which she waited impatiently in the foreign darkness, trying to quash the fear and panic threatening to overwhelm her with the indomitable force of her willpower, when finally someone answered, “Um… I’m over here.”

Midna blinked. Was that…?

“…Groose?”

“Yeah.”

She waited for another moment, but there was no other reply.

 _Oh, you have got to be kidding me…_ “Sheik? Aryll! Come on, Linebeck?! Anybody?!”

“Uh, I think it’s just us…” Groose muttered, the sound of his heavy footfalls barely perceptible as he finally succeeded in making his way over to Midna. Her eyes were beginning to adjust to the darkness, and she could just barely make out his hulking form and ridiculous pompadour leaning against the wall beside her.

Midna repressed the urge to groan. Of all the people she had to get stuck with…

“But… where are the others?” Midna asked, an edge of anxiety in her voice. “I mean, they were standing right next to us! And… where exactly are we, anyway?”

She wasn’t sure, but she thought Groose shrugged in response. Leave it to him to use non-verbal communication when neither of them could see.

She was about to ask another question when a loud, familiar voice broke in over the relentless grinding of the unseen machinery.

“Hahaha! You guys ready for your test?”

The voice, so clear and loud over the deafening sound, caught Midna off guard and she let out a shriek, spinning around and searching the shadows uselessly for the source of the voice. She would have felt embarrassed for the noise she’d just made were it not for the fact that Groose had squawked even louder.

“W-was that…?” Groose started, but Midna shook her head; great, now there she went using nonverbal communication…

But that voice… she knew that high-pitched, childish voice! The one that echoed as if multiple people were speaking simultaneously, the one tainted with the unmistakable edge of adolescent mischief…

“Hey!” Midna cried out, indignant. “Kid! I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but cut it out! Where are our friends? And get us out of this place!”

“You want out, pass the test!” he shot back haughtily, his voice seemingly coming from everywhere and nowhere all at once.

“No!” she screeched back, irate.

“The more you talk, the longer this is going to take you…” he sing-songed delightedly. She wondered how often he’d been told that by his parents.

Midna was gearing herself up to strangle the boy if she ever found where he was hiding in that darkness, but before she could respond to his quip, he spoke again, a sudden and ominous change to his tone. No longer did he seem like the undisciplined child; something in his voice, distorted and echoing as it was, seemed older, more malevolent.

“For your test: the Hero was always forced to shoulder the weight of the world… Let’s see how you handle the burden. You have until midnight to rescue this doomed village from its pending destruction. Do you have what it takes to change the course of fate, or will the deaths of hundreds be lain at your feet? Despair that overwhelms... This is a test of your _determination_.”

And with that, the voice was gone.

Um… _what?!_

“H-hey!” Groose called out, his voice uncharacteristically high-pitched. “What are you talkin’ about?! What village?! What destruction?! Who’s gonna die?! _Come back!”_

Midna felt something sick settling inside of her. Who… who was that kid? How had he done this? Shrouded them in darkness and separated her friends? Was this all part of some elaborate scheme to rob the museum? But… How could they have known Midna & Co. would arrive? And why go to such elaborate lengths to test them?

Suddenly remembering that she’d had her phone out when the darkness swallowed them, Midna hastily fell to her knees and began searching the damp, moss-covered floorboards. She must have dropped it in her confusion when she’d first arrived.

“M-Midna?” Groose called out hesitantly, “Uh, w-where’d you go?!”

“Over here,” she grunted, wincing at the splinters she was getting on her hands and knees from the aged, rotting wood. “I think I dropped my phone…”

“Oh… Oh wait, here; use my phone’s light to look for it.”

There was a pause as she waited for him to pull out his phone, then nothing.

“…Huh?!”

“Um… Groose? Any second would be nice…” she muttered irritably, wondering why he didn’t think of using his phone to call anyone-

“I- but… i-it’s not working! The light isn’t coming on! I think it’s dead!”

Midna sighed, pushing herself to her feet and wiping off her hands on her hoodie. Seriously, of all the people in their group, she gets stuck with this moron… What kind of person forgets to charge their phone?!

“Well, fine then,” Midna muttered, hastily removing her uncomfortably sticky hoodie and tying it by the sleeves around her waist. Might as well abandon her phone for now; she’d get her parents to buy her a new one when she got home. “We’re not getting anywhere just standing around. Let’s look for an exit.”

“Gotcha.”

 

“Be careful not to get your hand stuck in any of the machinery,” Groose suddenly called, and Midna reflexively drew her arms back to her sides. She hadn’t even thought of that! Suddenly, her dark prison went from annoying to screaming death trap; she was almost too scared to move. What if she fell through a hole in the floor and got ground up in between giant pistons?! Why do museums even _have_ rooms like these?! They were never getting out of here! Never!

“Hey! I think I found a door!”

Oh. Or maybe they were.

Hurrying as slowly as she could, which even she knew seemed nonsensical, Midna inched her way hastily in the direction of Groose’s voice, careful not to touch anything. Groose hadn’t wandered very far away from her, but she found herself stumbling over something discarded on the floor that felt like a misplaced two-by-four and needing to circle a pillar before she got to him.

Sure enough, against the far wall behind the pillar was a vertical crack of light.

“Huh…” Groose muttered, scratching at his chin as he stared perplexed at the doorway in front of him, the thin beam of light illuminating part of his face and one of his golden eyes.

“What? Is it locked?” Midna asked worriedly.

“Wha-? Oh, dunno. I was just wonderin’… Isn’t it supposed to be night time?”

Midna didn’t stop to consider his question. Freedom was beyond those doors; freedom from this infernal darkness, that deafening racket, and her muggy isolation with Ordon High’s number one idiot. The light forsake her if she was going to delay another second. Throwing every ounce of her miniscule body weight at the door, Midna heaved with all her might, muscles straining, boots sliding backward on the wet floorboards, but to no avail. 

“Here, I got you,” Groose chuckled, and with a gentle push both doors swung outward, a surprised Midna stumbling after them.

Sunlight blinded her.

When her eyes finally adjusted to the light of the outside world, she took in her surroundings with one long, slow, dumbfounded look and felt her jaw slowly fall open.

Where… _where were they?!_

A pleasant breeze fluttered past, cooling Midna’s sweaty skin, a soothing relief after the muggy room she’d been locked in. The sun shone warmly to her right, barely peeking up over the buildings and walls that surrounded her, illuminating the world with a cheerful morning light. A puppy scampered past her ankles, yapping enthusiastically, paying no mind to the two dumbstruck teens or the hustle and bustle of the crowds around them.

And oh, were there crowds.

It would seem the two had stumbled into the middle of some sort of open-air marketplace. Dozens upon dozens of stalls littered the plaza before them, selling everything from fruits and vegetables to knives and shoes, bags and dishes and pottery and souvenirs

was rushing through them, and everyone had large smiles on their faces.

Another thing common among them -- everyone seemed to have a mask. Most weren’t wearing theirs; they were attached to their belts or else hung on their backs, or the person was in the process of buying one. For every curio stall, regardless of what they specialized in vending, sold at least a few types of masks.

As for the rest of the village, a few small humble cottages dotted the perimeter of the plaza, though most of the buildings seemed to be made from large, sturdy bricks or wooden boards. The roofs were either thatched or tiled, and every one bore a chimney that was spewing smoke into the sky. It wasn’t until she noticed the currently extinguished torch brackets on the walls that she realized; there were no street lamps. There were no cars, either. As a matter of fact, there didn’t seem to be any sign of electricity anywhere. Where in Farore’s name were they?!

She felt Groose tapping her arm to get her attention at the same moment that she heard the loud creaking sound behind her and remembered the building she’d exited from. Turning irritably to ask what he wanted, her gaze fell on the double doors she’d stumbled out of only moments earlier and the building they were connected to. Her eyes slowly traveled higher and higher on the massive tower, her surprise growing with it, until finally alighting at the top where there had been constructed an enormous circular shape that rotated clockwise every few seconds. Were it not for the completely indecipherable markings and symbols on its face, she would have assumed that it was some sort of primitive clock.

Midna’s eyes didn’t stop there, however. Once she’d craned her head high enough to see the top of the tower with the clock-like thing on its front, something else caught her attention.

There, hanging in the sky, just above the clock tower-thing, was the moon… If the moon were four-hundred times closer and looking ready to give the earth a manly chest-bump.

 _What in the world…?_ she thought weakly, feeling nauseous, before a sudden tremor shook the ground.

Caught off-guard, Midna lost her footing with a surprised yelp and stumbled sideways into Groose, who miraculously managed to stay upright, though he looked like a total buffoon with his arms held aloft trying to keep balance. The miniature earthquake only lasted for a second, but it was enough for the babble of cheery voices in the marketplace to quiet down for a moment. Soon after the rumbling ceased, however, they went right back to their business without a care in the world.

“M-Midna?” Groose asked, something close to hysteria in his voice, “W-what… What’s goin’ on?!”

Detangling herself distastefully from the hulking rugby star, Midna tried to clear her thoughts and assess the situation.

So… they sneak into the Museum of National History in the dead of night, happen upon a duo of extravagant thieves who were more than likely runaways from the Labrynnian Circus, get sucked into a mysterious darkness by a child and separated from their friends, only to find themselves in a weird tower in the middle of a medieval village where the moon is physically located entirely too close to the earth to be considered anything other than apocalyptic.

Did she have that right? Because if so, then she clearly needed to go and speak to a psychiatrist.

When she didn’t answer, Groose asked slowly, “Do you think we gotta do somethin’ about that moon?”

Midna snapped her gaze back on Groose. “Huh? What… Why would you say that? What could you even do about that anyway?! It’s the _moon!_ ”

“Well yeah, but…” Groose mumbled awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck and averting his gaze, “It’s just… That kid said we had to save the village or somethin’, y’know, and I mean… What else would he be talkin’ about? Besides, if the moon’s really that close to the earth, that’s probably what caused the earthquake. And it’s only gonna get worse the closer it gets-“

“Whoa whoa whoa, _what_?!” Midna blurted out, horror dawning on her face. “Why closer?! Why would it get closer?!”

He shot her a longsuffering look, which only made her feel even more stupid considering it was coming from Groose of all people, and said slowly, "It's called gravity, Mid. The earth and the moon pull at each other. Normally, 'cause of lots of different things, the moon keeps its orbit, but if something were to mess it up…"

He let it hang ominously, but he needn’t have clarified. She ignored the fact that she was getting a science lesson from Groose of all people. Suddenly Armageddon wasn’t just a hokey movie she’d once watched with her boyfriend on a lazy Saturday night.

“The only question is, how long until-“

“Midnight,” Midna cut in, feeling breathless. “The kid said we had until midnight to save the village, didn’t he? So… That must be when the moon’ll hit the earth.”

The two exchanged uneasy looks.

Fighting to quell the panic inside, Midna managed to stutter out, “R-right, well… Let’s go and, uh, ask some of the people what’s going on. Maybe they can tell us where we are, and why the, uh, m-moon is so… well… you know.”

Groose nodded, looking eager to do anything other than stand around, and the two headed off into the plaza.

She stopped dead in her tracks in the middle of the plaza, her gaze riveted on the curio stall they’d just passed, and more importantly, the man standing behind it.

Feeling like she was getting quite sick of surprises, she found herself blathering stupidly, “I… What are you…? Mr. Happy?!”

The man glanced up at her upon hearing his name and shot her a confused look through his omnipresent smile. “Well, I suppose you could call me that… Though most just call me ‘The Happy Mask Salesman!’, here with all you need in masks and decorations for the Carnival of Time in Clock Town! How may I help you?”

Caught off-guard by his unexpectedly exuberant sales pitch, all she could say was, “Um…?”

Groose, who’d continued on a few steps before realizing he’d lost his companion, suddenly appeared at her side.

“Huh?!” he exclaimed stupidly, taken aback. “But… What… Curator dude, what are you doin’ here?! Did those museum guys get you too?!”

Happy gave him a bemused look. “Museum…? I’m sorry, kids, but I haven’t the foggiest idea what you’re talking about. Have we met before, perchance?”

Midna blinked. “Wait, what? You’re not Mr. Happy, the museum curator?”

“My dear, I don’t even know what a ‘museum’ is supposed to be!” he laughed dismissively. “No no, I’m just a humble traveling merchant, peddling my wares… Speaking of which, have a look around! I’ve got everything you may need for the Carnival of Time! I see you two haven’t got your masks yet. Better hurry! The festival starts tonight!”

Groose shot her a confused look. “So… He’s not the curator?”

Midna shrugged, a heavy frown on her face. “I guess not…”

“What’s this Carnival of Time thing he’s talkin’ about?”

“It’s a holiday in Termina. Like New Year’s or something. People put on masks and do… I don’t know, actually. But I think it has some connection to the Hero of Time. Like, he saved the festival or something. Or maybe the festival is about him. I don’t remember the story.”

“It’s a celebration of _masks_ , my dear!” Happy cut in exuberantly. Well, this iteration of Mr. Happy was certainly more animated than his previous counterpart. “Well… To be more accurate, it is a celebration of the harvest. We don our masks in the likeness of the spirits and send our prayers to them to bless us in the year to come. You know, they say that some masks contain the essences of the spirits themselves and contain special powers…”

The ground shook again, less violently than last time, but it served to bring Midna and Groose back to the matter at hand.

“Hey, Happy. What’s up with that?”

The not-Mr. Happy followed her finger up to the moon that hung ominously overhead, and she could have sworn that his face flashed momentarily grey, but a moment later, he was smiling as cheerfully as always and calmly organizing his supplies.

“Oh, the moon?” he chortled softly. “Don’t you worry about those silly rumors, children. It won’t really fall.”

Midna shot Groose a disturbed look, and the larger boy shrugged, equally confused.

“Um, ok… But don’t you think it’d maybe be smarter to, I dunno… leave the city?” Midna tried her hardest to keep the edge of sarcasm out of her tone, but it was difficult. Sure, the moon crashing into the earth was probably going to kill everyone on the planet regardless of where you lived on it, but living in the village right _unde_ r where it was planning to strike just seemed like an extra special brand of stupid.

Happy looked offended. “And miss out on the Carnival of Time?! Never!”

Midna scowled. This guy was risking annihilation just to make a few bucks?! Are people seriously so stupid?! Gearing herself up to force some sense into the man by way of a few well-chosen words and her fist if necessary, she was cut off by Happy, who seemed to sense what she was thinking judging by the impatient look on his face.

“Listen. I don’t know if you’re one of those doom-sayers or just out for attention, but nobody here is going to leave the Carnival of Time… Unless maybe the mayor ordered us to, but I don’t see that happening soon,” he chuckled again as if at some private joke.

“Fine!” Midna spat, frustrated. “Where’s this mayor?”

She didn’t know when she’d decided to help these people out, but it stood to reason that doing so might be the answer to their problem. After all, the kid hadn’t said they needed to stop the moon, just save the village. If they got everyone to evacuate…? Sure, it still probably wouldn’t work, but it was easier than trying to push the moon back into orbit, and it would give her something to do while she searched for a way out.

Happy sighed. “You really are being quite rude. Here I am, answering all your little questions, and you won’t even be so kind as to buy something from me.”

He sighed wistfully, and Midna felt her anger growing even more fervid. Jamming her hands into the pockets of her jean shorts to show the man that she didn’t even _have_ any money, or at least none that this village would consider currency, she felt surprise wash over her as her fingers met with what felt like a pocket full of pebbles.

Confused, she withdrew her hand and opened it, only to be met by the sparkling shapes of several tiny blue and green gems.

_What in the…?_

“Ah yes, just the amount of rupees you need!” Happy exclaimed delighted, somehow managing to swipe the lot from her hand before she could blink.

“I- Hey!” Midna shouted, indignant, only to have her protest cut off as Happy pushed something made of cloth into her hands.

Confused, she found herself looking at a red and lavender shoulder bag, apparently made of wool and leather. There were no buckles or latches; rather it had a large flap that hung loosely over the opening to cover what was inside. It wasn’t until she held it up that she realized that the flap had two golden crescents on its front, and together with its jagged bottom edge worked to form what looked like a cute little monster face.

She actually kinda liked it… Not that she would tell Happy that.

“Um… ok?” she supplied, slinging the bag over her shoulder without a second thought and returning her attention to the salesman, “Can you tell us where-?”

“And, as a special prize, you get _this_ fantastic little number, absolutely free!” he cut in, delightedly thrusting a small object into her hands.

“Huh?!”

She found herself blinking in confusion at what looked like some kind of flute or something made out of bluish-purple clay. Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, she absently shoved the object into her bag and scowled at Mr. Happy.

“It’s called an-“

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Just tell us where this Din-blasted mayor lives so we can get on with this.”

“Oh. Well, his office is in East Clocktown; just head across the plaza there, pass the inn, climb the steps to your left, and you’ll spot it.”

“Thanks,” she muttered, practically seething.

“Anytime!” he beamed brightly, offering her a small bow. “Do come visit again! Oh, and good luck with whatever it is you’re doing. I don’t know what troubles you’ll face, but I know you can come out on top. You must simply believe in your strengths… Believe…”

He had stopped bobbing and was staring at Midna intently, his smile no longer as pronounced, and his gaze unreadable. Swallowing awkwardly, Midna offered a hasty goodbye and set off at a fast trot across the plaza, eager to lose him in the crowd. That man was giving her the creeps.

By the time Groose had caught up with her, she was already nearly out of the plaza.

She'd kept her gaze determinedly on the edge of the marketplace, not wanting to get snagged by any other cunning merchants, and when she finally broke free she allowed herself to take in her surroundings. The eastern section of the town wasn’t nearly as busy as the center by the massive tower. A few old shops and buildings could be seen built along the side of a massive stone wall that she assumed formed the village’s border. Obviously, the village wasn’t very large. In preparation for the festival, they’d hung streamers and colorful signs all along the roofs of buildings, and she could see two men who bore an uncanny resemblance to her uncles juggling over by the tavern.

True to Happy’s doppelganger’s words, she could see a staircase to her left beside a two-story building that she assumed was the inn.  Stalking forward determinedly, already sick of this village and its ho-hum quaintness and ready to be out, she took the steps two at a time, heading towards the mayor’s office.

Groose, walking casually just behind her on his much longer legs, muttered, “Y’know… That guy sellin’ fish back there looked an awful lot like my neighbor…”

Midna ignored him. She was in no mood for his idiotic ramblings.

Topping the staircase and only feeling slightly winded, Midna raked the area with her eyes, searching for the largest, most official-looking building… There! The one with the two large, ceremonial masks hung on the outer walls and the fancy door!

“Gotcha!” she exclaimed, darting across the square, ignoring a gawking little boy playing with blow darts in the corner, her new bag bouncing awkwardly against her hip. Not bothering to check if Groose was even following, she arrived at the door to the mayor’s office, seized the handle with savage victory, flung the door open, barged inside, and stopped, confused.

“Irene?”

Irene, who was sitting behind the reception desk, looked up at Midna without recognition.

“Hmm… Can I help you with something?”

Rather than answer, Midna simply stared. Mr. Happy had been one thing, but… What was one of the ladies from her mother’s book club doing here?! The same vacant look, the same short blue hair, the same gaudy yellow necklace…

No… No. This can’t be her. Just like that other Happy wasn’t the real Mr. Happy. This was all… a hallucination or… or something… Taking a deep breath, Midna steeled herself and pressed on.

“Hey. Um, we need to see the mayor about something.” As if on cue, the ground trembled again.

“Hmm…” the woman who was _not_ the cool older lady from her mother’s book club mumbled, a bored look on her face. “He’s in a meeting. He can’t see you now.” She had an odd cow bobblehead on her desk next to her pen holder, and behind her on the wall was a miniature version of that giant circular device from the tower. She supposed it was a clock, after all… just one that made no sense.

Undeterred, Midna grated out an impatient, “Well, when will he be done?”

The receptionist simply shrugged, looking back down at the book she was reading at her desk. Midna clenched her teeth, trying not to lose her temper.

“Can we wait it out?”

Shrugging again, the lady pointed absently over to the corner of the room by a window where a wooden bench with green cushions awaited them. Sighing, Midna stuck her tongue out at not-Irene, who was far too busy with her book to notice, and slunk over toward the waiting room to… well, wait.

Light, she hated waiting. It drove her crazy. Zelda was the patient one in their group. Scowling once more, she plopped down onto the dusty cushions and took in her surroundings with tremendous apathy. A dirty window made of several small pieces of poorly made bubbly glass sat on her left, letting in a few shafts of warm yellow light, enough to illuminate the room and emphasize the innumerable dust particles dancing through the air. The mayor ought to fire his maid. Look, there was dust all over the books and trinkets on the shelf beside the mayor’s door! And look at the state of this carpet; the blocky green-yellow-brown pattern was vomit worthy, and the fabric totally disheveled and nearly worn to tatters.

Well, she surmised, taking in the place with one last sweeping look, from the faded paintings on the walls to the droopy potted plants in the corners – being a mayor clearly wasn’t in her future if this was what she had to look forward to.

The odd clock on the wall gave a strange ‘Kthunk!’ sound as if to agree.

A sudden snap came from the direction of the reception desk, and Midna turned to see the book club doppelganger rising to her feet, her now closed book held in her hand and a delighted look on her face.

"Finally lunchtime, I'm famished!" Midna thought she heard her mutter as she gathered her things and strode out the front door, not even glancing in her direction.

At her side, Groose snorted, crossing his arms and sitting back in his seat. "Lunchtime? Already? That chick has some serious work ethic issues.”

Midna couldn’t help but smile. “Anything to slack off, I suppose…”

She trailed off, an idea suddenly blossoming in her head. Bouncing to her feet, she motioned Groose to follow and darted towards the door to the mayor’s office.

“I-hey! Midna, what’re you doin’?!” Groose gawked, scrambling to catch up, his eyes wide and jaw slack.

“Now’s our chance!” she hissed excitedly, one hand on the handle, checking to be sure nobody was coming in through the office’s front door.

“Our chance for what?”

“To see the mayor! She isn’t here to stop us!”

“But he’s in a meeting-“

“To Subrosia with his meeting!” Midna cried dramatically, ever the one to challenge authority, and turned around to thrust the door open.

“Mr. Mayor, I-“

Once again, she stopped dead. Honestly, she needed to learn to look before she leaped; she was getting really tired of barging in head first and being caught off guard.

Three men were in the small office. One was a smaller, older man behind a large mahogany desk littered with papers. The other two stood on the small red carpet before the desk, facing each other with threatening postures, their heated argument momentarily stymied by Midna’s intrusion.

Groose, who stepped in behind her, took one look at the three men and let his jaw gape open in perfect cartoonish surprise.

“…Mr. Dotour?”

“Yes?” he replied, in a tone that was both curious and reprimanding. Midna shook her head, not comprehending what she was seeing. This man, the mayor of the little village… was Mr. Dotour? Kafei’s father, the mayor of Ordon? What…? But… How…?

There was no denying the resemblance. Same slight figure, same bad posture, same balding head and wispy mustache. Same long, sallow face that made one wonder how a man so unsightly could help to create offspring as close to male perfection as Kafei was. They both held the same office… They even shared the same name! What in the name of the Goddesses was going on?!

Before she could answer, the man on the left stepped forward.

“Your forgiveness, young miss,” said Mr. Smith, Colin’s father and Ordon’s chief of police, who was for some odd reason decked out in a breastplate and helmet that didn’t cover his face or trademark mustache, along with metal plates sewn to the front of his pants, “but we are in a very important meeting. I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

The man on the right let out a derisive snort; it was Mr. Alfonzo, one of the chaperones for their field trip and the school’s wood shop teacher.

“Yes, well,” Mayor Dotour stated primly, clearing his throat and getting everyone’s attention. “We are very busy at the moment, miss. We’re having a delicate meeting between the mayor, city patrol, and the workman’s guild pertaining to the… ah… Carnival. You’ll have to excuse us. Rusl, do see them out.”

So caught off guard she was by seeing people from her home here before her in this nightmare, she didn’t react to Chief Smith’s approaching footsteps until it was too late.

She and Groose were seized by the arm, the door thrust open, and both were unceremoniously shoved back into the waiting room.

“No! Wait, we-!” The door was slammed in her face, and she heard the bolt slam in place behind it, locking her out. “…want to talk about the… moon…”

She let out a sigh, turning around and letting her back slump against the door, facing Groose as she stewed.

Hesitant, the larger boy approached Midna, looking for all the world like a lost little puppy.

“Uh…” he started uneasily, “Midna… what’s goin’ on?”

She shook her head mutely. Troubled, he padded slowly back to the couch and sank down into it, slumping forward and hiding his face in his hands. She couldn’t bring herself to pity him; she was in the exact same boat. For the love of the Goddesses, what was going on here?!

Mr. Happy was one thing, and even the receptionist she could pass off as incredibly unlikely coincidence if only so she could focus on their impending doom, but… The mayor? Chief Smith and Alfonzo too? Come to think on it, those men juggling in the square… Were they really her uncles after all? And that man Groose said resembled his neighbor… Was this village full of people they knew? Or… copies of people they knew perhaps? Was this a part of the test, to make it seem more personal? If that were true, then was this disaster going to befall their loved ones, or just copies of their loved ones? Which one was real?

Real…

Reality…

Eyes flying wide open, understanding blossomed inside of her, and she pushed herself away from the door.

“Groose, I figured it out!”

“Y-you did?!” he stammered, straightening up and facing her disbelievingly.

“Yes!” she exclaimed, standing in front of him with her hands on her hips, a triumphant grin on her face. “ _This is all a dream!_ ”

The excited look on his face fell. “Er… Huh?”

“It’s a dream! This all makes perfect sense now!” she cried, throwing her hands up in the air and laughing, relief washing over her.

“B-but-!” Groose fumbled, looking lost.

“Think about it!” she explained rationally, plopping down beside him on the couch. “I mean, honestly. How else did those guys in the museum manage to separate us from the others so quickly? How else could we be seemingly ‘teleported’ to some random village in the middle of nowhere? How else could it go from midnight to dawn in an instant? How else could the moon be crashing down on us? And how else could we be surrounded by people we know? Simple! We’re dreaming!”

She expected relief to wash over his face. Instead, he frowned and scratched the side of his head. "Uh… hmm… I don't get it."

She felt her shoulders slump and she sighed, frustrated. "It's simple. The guys in the museum must have knocked us out with some kind of gas or something, probably when it got all dark and that masked kid was making that weird noise and glowing; they probably did all that to distract us so we wouldn't notice the gas."

Decoy maneuver. Standard villain procedure. She’d read it dozens of times.

Making sure he was following along, she continued. “That’s how we got here so fast; because ‘here’ doesn’t really exist. This is all in our minds. It’s a dream. The moon crashing down isn’t physically possible, like you said, but in dreams literally anything can happen. That’s why it’s morning too. Because it’s a dream.”

Though to be fair, she couldn’t fathom why she’d be dreaming of something like thisShe really shouldn’t be surprised though; from all the stories she’d been digesting recently, she was sure some part of her wanted to play the heroine for once. What a bizarre way to go about it though…

“And that also explains why we recognize everybody we see. Because in dreams, you only ever see people you’ve met before in reality. Something about your subconscious being unable to create faces…? I don’t remember, but I think I heard that somewhere. So yeah, there you go!”

Groose still looked unsure.

“Uh, okay… But whose dream is it?” he asked stupidly.

Midna snorted. “What? Mine of course.”

He looked even more confused. “But then… How did I get here?”

“You’re not here. Not really,” she said obviously, patting him on the shoulder. “You’re just a figment of my imagination. You’re probably lying unconscious on the floor of the museum somewhere near me, having your own hallucination. Don’t worry about it.”

“Um…” he muttered, rubbing at his temples, his frown so heavy she thought his face might split apart. Midna sighed to herself; poor guy probably never thought this hard in his whole life. It must be killing him. She didn’t know why though, everything was so clear to her…

“Listen, Groose,” she said, trying to sound gentle, “everything’s going to be ok. In just a little while, I’ll wake up, we’ll get out of the museum, tell the cops about the two weird thieves, Link will get released from jail, and this will all just be a silly story.”

She didn’t bother to ask herself why she was trying to comfort a figment of her imagination; dreams were weird like that. You just went with the flow.

“I know this must be bizarre, but you just have to accept it. I mean, sleeping gas really isn’t even that farfetched, it happens all the time in books-“

As she said the word ‘book’, her eyes moved subconsciously toward the book stand against the far wall, and an idea popped into her head.

“Look, I can prove it!” she exclaimed, hopping to her feet. She barely noticed that the receptionist had returned, so caught up she was. The clock on the wall made another ‘kthunk!’ sound.

“See, books are full of all kinds of words,” she explained over her shoulder as she scanned the bookshelf for an appropriate candidate. "Well, I mean, duh. Obviously. That’s what a book is. But I mean, I can’t fill an entire book with words in a dream; that’s not possible. Nobody could remember an entire book, word for word, front to back. You’d have to be like… Einstein. Or the Mentalist.”

Her eyes landed on a rather thick, dark green spine that seemed somehow familiar, and she tugged it out. She examined the cover with interest, her eyes sparkling as it dawned on her what it was.

“Ooh, this is _perfect_!”

“What’s perfect?” Groose asked, sounding tired, clearly not following her train of thought.

Skipping back over to the couch, she sat down beside him and said, “See this? It’s the Book of Mudora; it’s like, some super old book that’s full of stuff nobody knows. I saw it on display in the museum yesterday.” She neglected to mention that her overly-emotional boyfriend threw a hissy fit and wouldn’t let her go and see it. “I was just gonna pick any book, but this will work better. Now look -- this book is written entirely in some kind of Ancient Hylian. Nobody has ever been able to translate it, and we have no idea what it says. Now, if I open it and try to read, what do you think will happen?”

She shot Groose an expectant look, chewing anxiously on her lip with barely repressed excitement.

“Er, well…” he stammered, looking around for the answer. “You… can’t… read it?”

“Exactly!” she cried, and Groose smiled, relieved he’d guessed correctly

“And if not?” Groose asked.

“Well, the only other option is that it’s full of Ancient Hylian Runes. I can’t read those. So, if it’s full of ancient runes, I guess it means this is reality… Which probably means that this is some sort of hoax or prank that someone’s pulling on us. Or some kind of gimmicky museum attraction? Either way though, the moon isn’t really falling, so we’ll be fine.”

“You sure?” he asked, sounding both doubtful and hopeful at the same time.

“Positive,” she affirmed with a confident nod. “You ready?”

“Oh yeah!” he cried, pumping his fist. Finally, she managed to get through to him. After all, it didn’t take a genius to realize that none of this was physically possible. If it was impossible, it was fiction. And there were only two kinds of fiction -- the lies we tell ourselves, and the lies others tell us. Or in this case, insanity by way of dreams, or a hoax. Time to see which it was.

Steadying herself, she grinned at Groose and declared, “Alright! Opening book!”

She turned the cover and was met with a blank cover page, and then another cover page, and then…

“Runes?” Groose asked, sounding surprised. “Doesn’t that mean this is real?”

Midna didn’t answer. True enough, the page was embellished with the dark, harsh runes of Ancient Hyrule; proof, she had told Groose, that the book was real, and that they were participating in some sort of hoax. The letters were definitely Ancient Hylian. Of this, there was not a single doubt in her mind. 

So then… How did she know the page said ‘ _The Book of Mudora’_?

Shaking herself and deciding she must be confused, or perhaps merely assuming that what appeared to be the title page would bear the book’s title, she turned the page and was met with a large block of the runes. She ought to have glanced at that incoherent mess of awkward shapes and felt her brain go numb from lack of comprehension. Instead, with a conviction that stemmed seemingly from nowhere, she knew that the text read, ‘ _Detailing the Creation; of Gods, heretofore known, and also Demons, Spirits, etc. Of magicks, and its governance and laws, structure, usage, etc. Of Prophecies and Visions, both Past and Future. Legends of the realm. Assorted mysticism. Etc. Etc. Gwendolyn Mudora, 1416 AL’_

“Uh… Midna?” Groose prompted, waiting for an answer.

Not willing to believe what she was seeing, she flipped the book ahead a few pages. She saw a crude illustration of what looked to be the Triforce with three pillars of light coming from various angles. Below was more text. Again, it ought to have been gibberish, but she clearly understood that it said, ‘ _Nayru, Din, and Farore; leaving behind the works of their hands to govern themselves, the point at which they left became known as the Triforce. A holy relic, guarded by seven chosen vessels in the Sacred Realm against the day mortals may need the help of the Holy Ones, that a being of pure heart might lay hands upon it, and wish for the land golden years of hope and prosperity.’_

Shaking her head in denial, she skipped a few more pages.

_‘Light, Forest, Fire, Water, Shadow, Spirit; six, governed by Time, the seventh, chosen ere to guide the realm.’_

She flipped again.

_‘And in the days when the skies shall darken, forests wilt and mountain burn, a man shall be born in the desert.’_

And again.

_‘Ever she sleeps, awaiting the day when Hyrule shall need, and the Goddess’s Chosen shall stand alone against the rising tide.’_

And again.

_‘He returns! He whose heart breeds enmity! He who destroys hope! In the days when our children forget and their heritage spurn, he rises! More terrible than the warring tide, darker than the night!’_

Midna shuddered, feeling sick. How?! How was any of this possible?! Somebody, anybody, tell her what was going on, because she could feel her resolve crumbling around her, the false barrier of petty lies she’d construed to comfort herself vanishing like spider webs before an open flame. And when it all was gone, she worried what would be left of her.

Tears of frustration, of futility and fear, welled up in her eyes. Fingering the aged parchment between her fingers, savoring the feeling of book pages she loved so much, she knew that this was no dream. Dreams were never so vivid, so real. She was going to die. Lost in limbo, in a village doomed to over-the-top annihilation via celestial power-bomb, without friend or family by her side to share in her last pitiful moments… How could this be happening?!

In desperation, she flipped back a few pages until her eyes caught something.

There, on the left page, sat a diagram with several symbols sitting in a vaguely circular pattern. The caption read ‘ _Magick’_

 _‘Of the workings of Magick, there is little to tell that is not commonly known.’_ The book’s author stated simply. _‘That the people’s of Hyrule, being granted a portion of the Goddesses’ power, being offspring of Them who created them, shouldst utilize their talents in accordance with spiritual alignment. When Faith and Conviction meet, Will becomes Reality, as such was the world formed from nothing. First, belief. Second, desire. Thus is Magick woven by those possessive of its Talent. To those born without, utilization through a medium may suffice, for all possess the Goddesses_ _’ spark._

_For devotion, Light._

_For empathy, Nature._

_For passion, Fire._

_For adaptability, Water._

_For charity, Spirit._

_For sorrow, Shadow._

_For steadfastness, Earth._

_For joy, Wind._

_And Time, to the leader of the Sages.’_

Midna blinked slowly, taken aback. She knew that back in the day the people used to believe in magic and spirits and such; the ancient Hyruleans were polytheistic, so it wasn’t too surprising that such an old book would speak on the subject… But rules for using magic? How was that even a thing?

Then again… If magic was real, then what was happening to them could be explained…

Midna frowned and turned the page, angry at herself for entertaining delusions again. No -- if they were going to get out of here, she needed to think rationally. There was no other option.

Groose broke her train of thought by bumping her on the arm.

“Uh, h-hey, Midna?”

“What?” she grumbled, annoyed at being interrupted. To be honest, she’d completely forgotten he was even there, so enthralled she was with the book. That was normal; Sheik hated it when she was too busy reading to pay attention to him.

“Uh, how long have we been in here?”

Midna blinked. “I dunno. A half an hour? Why?”

The clock on the wall ‘kthunked’ again.

“Then why is the sun going down?”

She stared at him blankly, not comprehending, and then turned to the window. Sure enough, she could see the light outside the blurry window darkening with the familiar orange taint of twilight. Startled, Midna moved to stand up only to have Irene the receptionist suddenly appear before them, smiling falsely and saying, “I’m sorry you two, but the mayor’s office is closing now.”

“Huh?! What do you mean you’re closing?! We just got here!” Midna demanded, her heart thundering fearfully in her chest.

The lady gave them an odd look. “Just got here? My dear, you’ve been here all day. And the Mayor has already retired to his quarters for the evening with his wife. You’ll have to come back tomorrow.”

Midna gaped silently, her mind reeling. Before she knew it, Midna and Groose found themselves ushered out of the building and left outside the office doors in the fading sunlight, totally lost for words. It wasn’t until the door snapped shut behind them that Midna realized she was still holding the book in her hand.

“What do we do now?” Groose asked softly, staring dejectedly up at the moon which was closer than ever. It looked like it was poised to strike right at the clock tower.

Midna shook her head. “I don’t… I don’t know. That moon is literally about to crash, but these people…”

Down in the square, she could see dozens of people hurrying about, setting up decorations and lighting torches, preparing themselves for the Carnival. Occasionally they would glance up at the moon, and when they did they would remain where they were standing, face slack and hand over their hearts, trembling, until someone woke them up and brought them back.

“Why are they still so set on partyin’?” Groose growled angrily. “That freakish moon is gonna wipe us all out, can’t they see it?! I’m all for gettin’ down, but this…?”

Taking a deep breath, Midna steeled herself. There was nothing they could do… But they had to at least try. Shoving the Book of Mudora into her monster-face shoulder bag, she took a step forward, turning back to face Groose over her shoulder.

“You know, I used to think you were the stupidest person I’d ever meet,” she told Groose primly.

He gawked. “I-Hey! What?!”

She turned back to the crowd below the staircase in the square before the inn, setting up for the Carnival. “I take that back now. Every person in this village has you beat by a mile. Still… Even if they’re suicidal morons, we have to do _something_ , otherwise…”

She couldn’t bring herself to finish the sentence.

“Well, what do you suggest we do?” he asked, stepping up beside her and crossing his arms, looking for all the world like he was passing judgment on the peons below him, his biceps bulging through his too-tight rugby jersey.

She bit her lip. “Well, if we couldn’t convince the mayor, I guess… we try to convince the townspeople?”

He shot her a look like, ‘that’s the best you’ve got?’, and she glared in response.

“Alright,” he sighed, rubbing his face wearily. “I guess we can give that a shot.”

Nodding in half-hearted assent, the two set off at a trot down the stairs towards the people setting up for the festival.

The earth rumbled again.

The next little while represented probably one of the most frustrating moments of Midna’s life. They went everywhere, from East Clocktown to West, South to North, knocking on every door, stopping every pedestrian, challenging every huddle of would-be partygoers, but to no avail. The people only had two responses to Midna and Groose's pleadings that they flee the city before it was too late; either they'd laugh as if the two were telling some great joke, or else they'd become angry at the ‘doom-sayers’ and threaten to harm them.

However, the more and more she spoke with the villagers and pleaded with them to flee, the more convinced she became that she had misjudged them. Their smiles were too wide to be real, their laughter too forced, their tempers too quick. Most had heavy bags under their eyes and slumped shoulders offsetting their faux-cheerful facade.

It wasn’t until she got close enough to actually look that she realized; it wasn’t that they were too stupid to notice the moon. They’d simply given up hope of escaping. And they were probably right. Running from something so vast was pointless, and if there was nowhere to run, you may as well enjoy what little time you had left. The villagers would spend that final day crushed by the dual weights of the moon and their own defeat.

Passing a duo of interpretive dancers and a store with a larger than life bomb placed on top of it (did they really sell explosives there?! How was that legal?!), the earth trembled once again and a distant chiming could be heard. The two exchanged shocked looks.

“Wait, is that…? Is it midnight already?!” Groose squawked, alarmed.

“It can’t…! It’s only been twenty minutes!” Midna shouted in response over the sudden cheers and shouts emanating from all over the village. Fireworks suddenly lit the sky, and the moon was so close she wondered how they didn’t hit it. How on earth was time passing so quickly here?! If anything, that was cheating! Gods, she would _murder_ that stupid masked kid the next time she saw him!

“What do we do now?!” Groose asked, panic etched into his face, pressing himself flat against the wall to avoid the passersby.

Midna shook her head, at a loss. “I don’t… Let’s head to the clock tower. Maybe…”

She didn’t finish her thought. Maybe? Maybe what? There were no ‘maybes’ anymore. That was it. They were done. Finished. It was over.

Thankfully, they weren’t too far from the tower. The plaza before it was rife with partygoers, torch brackets, and masked dancers, but Midna’s eyes were on the moon, so close now to the earth she could make out individual crevasses and craters.

As the chiming of the clock reached its end, something odd happened; the tower began to move. The top section lifted up, extending high into the air with a tremendous groan, the clock’s massive face lifting with it. When it reached its full height, it paused for a moment before suddenly swinging backward ninety degrees as though on great hinges, stopping with a sudden crash.

The clock’s face, which was originally on the tower’s front, was now on the top. Just above the doors they’d walked out of that morning, exactly where the clock’s face used to be, a wall slid downward, revealing a staircase that presumably led to the top of the tower… right underneath the moon.

A thought popped into her head. Turning to Groose, she said, “Hey… Let’s go up.”

He stared at her like she was crazy. She scowled. “Well, what else is there to do?! Maybe there’s a clue or something!”

“A clue?!” he scoffed. “Listen, Midna, this ain’t Scooby-Doo-“

“Fine!” she snapped, fear and anxiety turning into anger, “Stay here and give up! I’ll go by myself!”

She stormed off in a huff, shoving roughly through the crowds of people cheering and celebrating in front of the tower only to be joined by Groose a moment later by the ramp that led up towards the newly formed doorway. He didn’t say anything, however; simply followed her.

The stairway was narrow, the steps made of dusty stone that she could tell was almost never used; they probably only revealed themselves on the night of the Carnival. They turned twice before dumping them out on the now sideways face of the bizarre clock. Looking at it closer, she still couldn’t make out any of the symbols. The moon was terribly close overhead, and she knew they only had a matter of seconds… Maybe she’d be better able to interpret what she was seeing if she used the book? Maybe she could find the symbols in one of the illustrations…

She hastily dug the book out and flipped it open.

 “Well, well, well…” came a familiar voice from above them.

Turning her attention away from the book in her hands, Midna glanced up in shock to see the boy in the mask, once again hovering in the air, suspended between the clock tower and the moon as though it and the earth were playing gravitational tug-of-war with his body.

“Time’s up, guys. Looks like you failed.”

Midna shuddered. In desperation, she screamed, “Why?! Why are you doing this to us?! How were we supposed to stop the moon?!”

The boy cackled in response, clearly enjoying Midna’s suffering. “Stop it? Why… You weren’t supposed to stop it.”

Midna blinked, confused. “What…?”

“My powers aren’t comparable, child.” There it was again, the subtle change in tone. “My influence too great. You thought you could defeat me? Well then! If this is something that can be stopped, just try and stop it! DAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!”

He screamed, a horrible, echoing scream, and threw his arms wide. The mask on his face let out that eerie purple light she’d seen in the museum, and suddenly the earth shuddered.

The trembling didn’t stop this time. A horrible gale blasted over the tower, and above them, the moon began to enter the atmosphere.

Fire tore across the sky, the ground seethed, the air howled, and Midna and Groose were thrown to the floor, the book flying out of her hand. Energy of some sort was exuding from the boy’s mask, keeping her on the ground. Terror gripped her heart, and she cast her eyes about her, eager for an escape, a chance, _anything!_

The book caught her eye. The pages ruffled in the wind, caught up by the gale, but stopped suddenly on a particular page as though something had caught the pages. In desperation, she pulled the book closer and once again found herself reading about music.

She was under too much pressure to process what she was reading. The description said something about utilizing the structure of the melodies and weaving your ‘magic' (aka your ‘Faith' and ‘Willpower' or whatever) into the notes. None of it seemed useful, and she wailed internally in fear and despair until an image caught her eye.

There, on the top right of the left page, was an illustration of a small, oval-shaped wind instrument that bore a striking resemblance to the one Happy had given her just an hour or so earlier.

There was a guide for finger positioning, and below it, several crude musical staffs with notes inked in. She’d only taken rudimentary piano classes as a child when her parents still thought there was hope of her being civilized. She still remembered a little about music though, and the short little songs seemed simple enough, but what did any of that matter?

She glanced down the list. _Serenade of Water… Elegy of Emptiness… Ballad of the Wind Fish_ … _Song of Time…_

At her side, she heard Groose moan pitifully, “Man, this ain’t cool… i-if only we had… more time…”

 _Time_ …

Without thinking about how utterly illogical it was, she hurriedly snatched Happy’s ocarina from her bag and held it to her lips, struggling to read the page and find out the notes as she pinned the book beneath her knees so the pages wouldn’t be blown by the wind. She was terribly lucky that the page included the correct finger positions, else she’d be royally screwed.

Overhead, the boy in the mask continued to scream his defiance to the heavens, and the air around them began to heat.

Eyeing the finger placement chart, she awkwardly blew the first note… then the second… then the third…

The air was growing thin, the sky a blinding white from the sheer intensity of the blaze created by the moon breaking through the atmosphere. Any second now, and she’d be obliterated.

… fourth note… fifth note…

At the last second, she remembered that for magic to work, she needed to put her will in it and believe, whatever that meant. Casting her mind out to the Goddesses or whatever Spirits might have been listening, she willed her very being into the last note and blew with all of her might.

The world went white.

 


	7. Lost in the Dark

When Aryll opened her eyes, she found herself lost in a sea of trees.

Blinking rapidly, she twirled slowly on the spot, not quite understanding what was happening. The forest was dark and chilly, no light to speak of save for a small, old-fashioned lantern that sat in the middle of the clearing before her.

A breeze swept through the woods, tugging at her pigtails and chilling her to the bone. Around her, nothing stirred in the darkness save for the occasional tree branch and the thick, white, ethereal fog that pervaded the area, all but obscuring her vision.

She could feel something building up inside of her, something she hadn’t felt in a long, long time. Terror. The kind that started in your belly, freezing your insides and crawling its way up your esophagus until it gripped your throat, daring you to scream but strangling the noise before it could be heard.

Alone. She was alone. It was dark, and she was alone. Her heartbeat quickened.

She opened her mouth to call out, to find Midna or Sheik or even Marin, but she couldn’t get her throat unglued. She could have sworn she felt eyes watching her in the darkness, hidden in the mist. The trees were pale white, dancing like skeletal ghosts in the flickering light of the lantern, and she shivered, trying to block out the sound of screams and hysterical crying that bubbled up from her subconscious.

_No… Not again! You can beat this! Just breathe… Don’t think about it… Breathe and think calm thoughts. Calm, happy thoughts-_

Something giggled in the darkness, and the scream she’d been repressing finally ripped itself from her throat. She bolted forward only to trip over her own legs and crash into the muddy floor below her, staining her knees and hands with the dark soil and nearly knocking over the lantern.

She twirled about spastically, eyes looking everywhere for the source of the laughter and seeing nothing but haunting, dancing trees.

Tears stung at her eyes as hysteria threatened to overwhelm her; she scrambled backward on all-fours, scurrying away from the flickering lights until her back pressed against a fallen log. There she curled up, heart hammering and imagination whirling as she fought back the sobs that were already wracking her slight torso.

_Guns and death and darkness and laughter… How long had she been alone in that closet? How long would these terrors haunt her? How long until she could forget?_

She could see the secretary falling to pieces all over again. She could see Ganondorf’s merciless eyes. Gunshots ringing out from all directions as she and her brother ran for their lives through the war-torn halls of her supposedly safe school. Link, pressed against the lockers with a gun aimed at his chest. Her broken boyfriend, pleading forgiveness. And the darkness of the closet… That terrible, soul-sucking darkness…

A voice echoed throughout the clearing, making her stiffen and stemming her tears as mind-numbing terror gripped her again.

“Hahaha! I knew you’d be the one to go to for this!”

Aryll swallowed awkwardly past the lump in her throat. That voice… She knew that voice!

“Well, girly? You ready for your test?” the boy asked. His voice came from everywhere and nowhere, but she’d be hard pressed to forget the odd reverberating dissonance in the masked boy’s voice.

Before she could think of an answer, he said, “The calling of the Hero is exhaustive, taxing him physically, mentally, and emotionally, never with any chance of rest. How long can you hope to last? Your only objective is to stay alive. Can you survive a night in the haunting isolation of the woods, or will you succumb to the pitiless darkness that awaits you on every side? This is a test of your _endurance_.”

The voice cut out, and she was left with silence.

Sniffling quietly, she hastily wiped the tears from her eyes and kept her gaze riveted on her surroundings to make sure nothing came sneaking up on her.

Where was everybody? They were probably lost out here in the woods with her. But how had they gotten there? Maybe they’d been knocked unconscious and dragged out here by the thieves… For all she knew, Sheik and the rest were just around the corner, but she was too afraid to call out to them in case she attracted the attention of something a little less friendly.

Another breeze rustled the branches of the trees and she shuddered. Curling up into a little ball against the log, she continued scanning the surroundings while trying to calm her panicky thoughts.

She never used to be afraid of the dark. As a matter of fact, she’d loved it. Especially the woods; being in the woods always reminded her of her grandfather, and how he used to take her and Link up into the mountains to camp back when they’d lived on Outset. He’d teach them how to fish, to climb trees and build campfires, and at nights they’d roast marshmallows and tell stories. Camping was one of her favorite activities as a child, and even as a teenager long after her grandfather had passed away and they’d moved to Ordon, she’d sometimes look up at the night sky and pick out the constellations he’d taught her, and imagine that he was still there.

That is… until last year’s shooting.

Ever since the Ordon High Massacre, she’d been terrified of the dark. There were some nights where she couldn’t even sleep; nightmares of the shooting and her imprisonment in that tiny supply closet had her shooting upright in her bed, soaked with sweat and tears and on the verge of hyperventilation as visions of yellow eyes and scarlet blood, gunshots and explosions flashed through her head.

She’d always kept her light on since then and would never enter a closet unless someone was there, and even then she didn’t stay long. Something about it seemed to trigger the memories of that horrible day, and she hated it. And now, there she was… all alone in the forest.

It was a little embarrassing, truth be told. Aryll prided herself on her free spirit and upbeat attitude, never afraid to face a challenge… And yet she turned into a quivering pile of goo when the lights went out.

Leaning back, she cast a quick look skyward and managed to just barely peek at the star-filled sky beyond the canopy of branches. She was surprised; she hadn’t seen that many stars since her days with Link and Grandpa on Outset… Seeing them now randfather was sending her a bit of his strength.

She could almost hear his voice in her head, telling her to get her ninny-muggin head out of the clouds and get to work. Her brother needed help, after all. Wasn’t that how all of this started?

Steeling her nerves and shoving all of her fears into the back of her mind, Aryll took several deep breaths and slowly got to her feet. When nothing in the foggy darkness stirred, she took a few hesitant steps on trembling legs toward the center of the clearing where she’d left the lantern. Glancing around fearfully, she quickly stooped down and snatched it up, holding it aloft as though it were a shield. Nothing moved.

Come to think of it… where had this lantern even come from? Had it been left behind by those guys from the museum? Awfully gracious of them. Leaving a poor defenseless girl alone in the woods in the dead of night was terrible, after all, but giving her a light just made it all better…

Letting out an unsteady breath and feeling silly, she decided to go ahead and start searching for her friends. She managed two steps forward when an owl hooted in a nearby tree.

Aryll started with fear and screamed so loudly her throat stung. When _still_ nothing moved, she glowered up at the tree where the owl was and felt an irrational rage build up within her chest.

“Hey!” she snapped, jabbing her lantern up in the direction of the branches. She could see the owl perched in an old oak about a dozen feet above her, looking down at her with interest. It looked to be white as snow, though with black markings around its face like a mask. It tilted its head and hooted again as though in response to her shouting.

“Gah! Go, shoo, get out of here!” she cried, waving her arms and brandishing the lantern. “Who do you think you are, scaring people like that? You jerk!”

It didn’t answer. Ah, playing innocent, eh? Well then, she’d show him…

She decided to ignore the fact that she was screaming at an owl for being rude. Any distraction was a good distraction at the present.

Snatching a stick off the ground, Aryll straightened up and hurled it at the bird with an angry, “I said _go!”_

Despite the fact that softball had given Aryll a fairly decent arm, the stick sailed way off course, landing harmlessly somewhere in the darkness with a faint rustle of leaves.

Snorting derisively, Aryll searched the ground for another. Sure, trying to smack a bird with a stick might be considered animal abuse to some, but she needed some way to vent all her frustration and fear, and irrational anger seemed to be the way to go.

The only warning she had was the swiftly approaching sound of flapping wings and screeching moments before she was set upon. From the out of the dark fog came dozens and dozens of angry bats, apparently startled by the stick she had thrown. And they were headed straight towards her.

Shrieking in girlish terror that would have put Ruto to shame, Aryll twisted around and bolted.

She needed to thank whichever goddess had seen fit to bless her with that lantern. It was only due to it that she was able to navigate the darkness of the forest at full sprint. She ducked and weaved between twisted trees, leaped bodily over branches and rocks, and essentially utilized every skill that years of track practice had given her.

It was a good thing she’d redoubled her efforts at sports this past year. Not having a boyfriend to occupy her free time and with several… unpleasant… memories to try and forget, she’d used sports as a way to occupy her attention. The bonus was that now she was fitter than ever. Who knew she’d eventually use it to outrun bats?

Silver linings from psychological trauma.

After a harried thirty-second chase, the bats finally veered off, heading in an opposite direction.

Panting slightly, Aryll slowed to a jog and broke through a large hedge into another clearing, her lantern swinging lazily.

Three sets of eyes met hers, squinting hesitantly at the sudden light.

Aryll froze, going from surprise to confusion to dread to paralyzing terror in a record number of seconds.

“What in Farore’s name…?” she whispered hoarsely.

They were men… but they weren’t. Far too short for one thing, and with bulbous heads and animal ears and… Were those horns?! Their skin ranged from red to green to dark grey, and the only article of clothing they wore were pants, save for the green one, who also had on a crude leather vest. Their lower jaws were overly large, with sharp fangs protruding from their gaping jaws beneath a pig’s snout for a nose and beady, thickly browed eyes. Whatever they were, they weren’t human. And they didn’t look friendly.

Rather than run, as was sensible, Aryll stood rooted to the spot, her heart pounding in her chest and her mind reeling in a stunned stupor. She kept squinting at them, lantern held aloft, hoping against hope that the fog was messing with her head and that these monsters would suddenly materialize as her missing friends.

They didn’t.

The one on the right snorted, sounding confused and angry, hefting a club into the air. The green one nodded, letting loose a guttural cry and charging forward, a rusted, dented sword held clumsily in one hand, the other holding up a scrap of bark that was apparently meant as a shield. The last, the red one, hesitated; he seemed confused as to what was going on, holding of all things a telescope in his hand and peering off in the opposite direction.

Aryll didn’t wait to see what would happen. The shock of them charging at her was enough to startle her body into motion. Backing up hastily, she turned to flee only to trip over a gnarled root sticking out of the ground, the lantern flying out of her hand.

She hit the ground with a painful ‘oof!' but wasted no time in scrambling forward on her hands and knees. Thankfully, her ankle wasn't hurt, and the lantern still seemed to be burning. She hurriedly snatched it up and set off at full tilt, but her little accident had given the creatures ample time to catch up.

Inhuman as they were, it seemed they weren’t entirely devoid of intelligence. The grey one split off from the group, and as she turned around a cluster of trees she saw him coming at her from the side and had to change directions. Unfortunately, the only way forward was a dip down into a hollow surrounded by thick foliage. She burst into the clearing at a dead run, but as her eyes scanned the area her heart fell; there was nowhere to go but backward.

There was no chance to double back though; the monsters were too close. She could try forcing her way through the plants, but she’d more than likely be skewered halfway through. A mound of earth rose from the ground directly in front of her, blocking her passage. As she turned around to search for another exit, the creatures arrived, weapons held aloft and saliva dribbling down their jaws, crying gleefully. They spread out, forcing her back against the wall of earth, laughing and jeering and making violent jabs at her with their weapons.

It was at that moment that Aryll felt her will break. Collapsing onto the ground in a daze, she gazed at the slowly approaching monsters with half-lidded eyes, suddenly exhausted. She didn't know where she was, what was going on, or why it was happening. All she knew was that she was alone in the terrible, terrible darkness…  And once again, she was going to die.

All she caught was a glimmer of silver streaking through the air before something tore through the green monster’s chest.

He froze, stunned, and four sets of eyes rested on what looked to be a sharp metal implement protruding from the creature’s sternum, dripping dark black blood down its scaly belly. The projectile suddenly retracted, tearing out a chunk of the monster's chest with it and vanishing into the dark forest; the monster spasmed, eyes rolling up into its head, then fell forward onto the ground at Aryll's feet where it exploded into a puff of acrid black sulfurous smoke.

She was too stunned to move. So were the other two monsters. Without warning, the weapon came flying out of the fog once more, piercing the throat of the grey monster, who let out a gurgled shout and likewise exploded into dust, and the weapon once again retracted into the night.

Now it was just Aryll and the red creature. Telescope trembling, the monster let out a cry of fright and turned to flee, only to be caught in the temple by the weapon. As he died, his telescope flew from his hand and landed near where Aryll was sitting, stupefied.

 “Haha!” cried a familiar voice from somewhere in the woods, and she could see the dark figure of a person approaching swiftly through the underbrush, their leisurely footsteps crunching through dried leaves and twigs. "Fear not, fair damsel! 'Tis I, your knight in shining armor, here to rescue you from the savage clutches of the night!”

_Oh, you have got to be kidding me…_

As her unexpected savior drew close, red hair still resplendent in the fog and ever-present odd blue jacket billowing in the wind, Aryll felt the gravity of what just transpired wash over her, and she collapsed onto her back, staring up at the stars through the tree branches and felt tears wash over her face. She was alive… Farore, she was alive…

And she wasn’t alone anymore.

* * *

Sheik felt like punching somebody.

Honestly. Of all the ridiculous, stupid, utterly nonsensical garbage he’d been forced to put up with in his short life, this situation definitely took the cake. One minute, he’s having a shouting match with the punk kid who’d framed his best friend and sent him off to jail in the dark atrium of the National Museum, and the next he was…

Well, to be honest, he had no idea where he was.

It looked like some sort of tunnel or underground passageway; old stone slabs made up the walls of the short, narrow corridor that stretched on in front of him, sloping sharply downward. Torches in rusted brackets strung along the walls illuminated the low-ceilinged pathway with flickering orange light but didn't do much to help him understand where he was or how he'd come to be there. They did, however, give him a good view of where he was, and he was starting to wish they didn't.

The floor was filthy; little trails of water trickled gently down the slope around his feet, and he struggled to keep his footing amongst what looked like years of accrued black and green sludge. He shuddered to think where it came from. Even worse, amidst the slime were countless rat skeletons and cockroaches that crunched under his Converse no matter how carefully he placed his feet.

The whole corridor was infested with this putrid odor; one part fecal matter, two parts decay. If he didn't know any better, he'd say he was trapped in an old set of catacombs that had accidentally been connected to a broken sewer line. Actually… that might very well be the case. Castleton was an old city, after all; who knew what lay hidden beneath its depths? The only question then was… how had he gotten there?

From where he’d appeared, there didn’t seem to be any entrance or exit; he’d merely opened his eyes to find himself at the dead end of the corridor and after waiting a few moments had decided to start pressing forward to find an exit. Wherever he was, he needed to find Midna and the others fast. The kid with the mask and the creep on the statue were probably making their getaway; without them, Sheik lost his only hope at freeing Link.

Sheik’s foot slipped suddenly on a half-decomposed rat carcass and he flung his hands out against the walls to catch himself with a startled yelp, fingertips scratching uselessly against the pitted stone, but it was no use. His butt hit the ground with a sickening squish and, aided by the sludge, he felt gravity take over; he slid down the rest of the tunnel like a theme park water slide, screaming all the while.

Thankfully, the tunnel ended after only a couple moments of unsanitary horror, and Sheik hastily scrambled to his feet on the small landing, futilely trying to scrub the sludge off his pants from the puddle of accumulated water he now found himself splashing in. He didn’t even want to think about what kinds of sick fungal infections he was going to get from this place; if he ever found that masked kid, he was gonna-!

A sudden giggling sound came echoing off the walls around him and Sheik jerked his attention away from his soiled backside, trying to find the source of the voice. Unfortunately, there was nothing to see. The tiny downward path he'd been following ended in a wall maybe six feet in front of him. Sure, it looked a little different; two free-standing torches stood on either side of what looked like a massive stone mural of a grotesque face smiling like a jack-o-lantern with its chin resting on both hands, but it was nothing special. The stone was nearly black with corruption, but other than that, there was nothing else in the tunnel aside from Sheik.

 So then… how had Sheik gotten in there in the first place? How would he get out? And where was that laughter coming from?

“Well, aren’t you one twisted individual?”

Sheik stiffened, his eyes going wide. He _knew_ that voice! It was the kid from the museum, the one who’d stolen the mask! So he was nearby! If he could just figure out how to get out of here-!

"Really? You're not going to yell at me this time? Well, that's no fun…" The child's eerie, echoing voice tittered petulantly, though try as Sheik might he couldn't quite pinpoint where it was coming from. "And after all the work I did, playing up your ‘tortured past’ angle. I guess we’ll just have to get right to it then. Test time!”

Well, he seemed downright perky there. Clearing his throat, Sheik grated out a threatening, “I told you, kid, I’m not playing any-“

“The Hero,” the kid interrupted, and Sheik stopped talking, his brows furrowed; something was… off… in the kid’s voice. There was something different. Something cruel, “in every incarnation was forced to face down unspeakable horrors. Now it’s your turn. Do you have the guts to descend into the depths of your darkest nightmares? Can you learn to put your fear behind you, or will your heart falter in your hour of need? This is a test of your _bravery_.”

“What are you talking about?!” Sheik spat, aggravated, but the boy didn’t answer. Annoyed, he shouted again. “Hey, I asked you a question! Where am I?!”

Nothing. Rage threatened to consume him and he called out again and again, but his voice merely echoed off the empty stone walls without reply. Snarling in frustration, Sheik moved as though to run his hands through his hair but stopped himself at the last moment; he’d forgotten that his hands were filthy from the fall, and instead clenched his fists and tried to quell his rising fury.

So. They’d apparently been caught by the actual culprits and were separated and locked up in order to stop them from interfering… well, it made sense, in a way. How exactly they’d had access to the sewer system he didn’t know, but it was certainly handy for getting rid of people you didn’t want around. He felt like he was in a good old-fashioned spy movie, where the heroes are locked up in some exotic prison scenario and they had to find a way to break out. He’d seen plenty of those movies with his friends. The only question was- what would the protagonist do in this situation? What would Bourne, Bauer, or Bond do?

Closing his eyes and unclenching his fists, Sheik took a slow, steadying breath… and regretted it as soon as the putrid stench invaded his nostrils. Coughing bitterly, he scrunched up his face and took in his surroundings, trying to think.

Well… there had been nothing up the tunnel where he’d come from, and trying to fight his way back uphill with the footing as treacherous as it was seemed to be inviting disaster. That being said, there had to be a way out of here; if him being there and hearing that stupid kid’s voice wasn’t already an indication, then the fact that he was still breathing with all the torches around him was proof enough that there was an exit. Torches needed oxygen, same as him. They had to be getting it from somewhere.

A slight breeze swept past, blowing stale, putrid air through his bangs. Sheik perked up. Wind! That meant there was an exit! But where…?

The air left as suddenly as it came, and the torches calmed in their brackets, the faint crackling filling the background like muted whispers.

‘ _What is hidden in the darkness… Tricks full of ill will… You can’t see the way forward…’_

Sheik frowned, shaking his head to clear his thoughts and think rationally. You lose focus and you start to hear things. But… what was there to do? The gust of wind came from somewhere, but all he could see was this slab of wall…

Turning to face the tunnel he’d come from, Sheik folded his arms pensively across his chest and leaned back against the mural to gather his thoughts… and kept right on going. He let out a surprised yelp as he stumbled backward, teetering violently, arms windmilling, trying desperately not to fall.

He managed to keep himself upright for a few staggering steps, long enough to watch in bewilderment as he passed _right through the wall_ and continued going through the tunnel that apparently didn’t stop where the laws of physics said it ought to. Unfortunately, gravity soon won out, and Sheik toppled backward, his back slamming onto the wet stone flooring, his head bouncing nauseatingly off the ground with a sickening thunk.

He groaned pathetically, feeling sick and disoriented, trying to understand what had just happened. A fake wall? That was a mean trick… but how had he passed through it? Were things like that even possible?

Head throbbing, Sheik blinked his eyes back open groggily from his position on the floor to take in his new surroundings.

His heart stopped beating.

There, leaning against the wall, barely three feet away from him on the left, stood the single most horrifying thing he had ever laid eyes on.

It was tall and humanoid, with emaciated limbs and a grotesque, lopsided head, but that was where the similarities with humans ended. It wore no clothes, only mottled, dark brown flesh that clung to its yellowed skeleton in dried, shriveled clumps, the stench of decay so powerful it nearly knocked him out. Its face seemed to be covered in something that had rotted away together with its flesh, perhaps some sort of burial mask, but what remained were three empty, hollow holes; two blank sockets where the eyes should be, and one larger, gaping one in pseudo-imitation of a mouth.

The whole thing had the appearance of mummification, like in those old-school mummy horror movies he’d watch around Halloween with the Hero family, but no amount of film watching could ever prepare you for the reality.

There was a rustling sound from somewhere, and then slowly, deliberately, its head began to turn ever so slightly until its sightless gaze rested on Sheik. His heart was thundering in his chest, but he couldn’t seem to make himself breath. Through the gaping hole it called a mouth, the creature took a slow, ragged, whistling breath…

Sheik screamed so loudly his ears popped, limbs flailing in an uncoordinated attempt to scramble backward. He half expected it to pounce or start shambling after him or _something._

He didn’t expect it to scream back.

It was high-pitched and heart-stopping, like the anguished shriek of a child dying, the sound so shrill, so cold, so _hopeless_ , that it froze Sheik to his very core. He felt his limbs lock up, his fingers growing numb, his breath catch in his chest as a colossal terror consumed him like a tidal wave. His brain went blank. His heart hammered sluggishly in his chest. All he could do was watch as the corpse standing by the wall slowly began to approach.

First one step. Then another. Arms outreaching, knees crouching down, spine bending, face nearing… Every fiber of his being screamed at him to _move, Din blast you, move!_ But it was no use. As the rotted face grew near and its putrid breath brushed against Sheik’s face, all he could hear was the _scream_ and the sounds of hundreds like it, mixed with gunfire and explosions and tears of despair and _why did I do it? Why did I help him? Why did I let myself get dragged into that nightmare? I’m a monster, no less than Ganondorf or Zant or this corpse who about to tear the flesh from my worthless body. I deserve this. I deserve death. Let it come. Let it end…_

The zombie thing’s mouth was inches away from Sheik’s throat when he felt his consciousness snap back into place and he suddenly regained control of his body. Still up on hands and feet in an awkward crab position, Sheik let out a bark of terror and flailed his fist wildly at the creature, smacking it in the face and sending it stumbling back against the wall.

Not waiting to see if it recovered, Sheik scrambled backward like a madman, willing his arms and legs to scuttle faster, to get him as far away from that… that _thing_ as humanly possible. 

A dozen feet from the monster, he placed a hand backward expecting to meet the grimy stone flooring and instead found only air, the floor vanishing abruptly from beneath him and with a startled yelp Sheik tumbled backward off a ledge he didn’t see coming.

Thankfully, he only fell about four feet and landed painfully in a current of murky water. Well… as thankful as one could be, landing in sewage.

Coughing and retching, Sheik emerged on hands and knees in the frigid water, shaking the sodden hair from his eyes and trying to regain his bearings. The water was only about a foot deep, maybe a foot and a half, but it was cold and filthy and _Nayru, he’d gotten this in his mouth?! Ugh!_

Spitting fitfully and trying to pull himself up on unsteady limbs, he glanced around him with frantic eyes and decided he was in some sort of sewer canal; an ancient one at that, but what else could it be? He could see a bend just ahead, presumably where the water was coming from, and the current took the water somewhere behind him.

The only thought on his mind being to get out as soon as humanly possible, Sheik tried to still the trembling in his legs and arms and force himself to stand, placing a hand on the wall to brace himself.

Suddenly from around the bend in front of him emerged what was unmistakably a _floating skull._ It drifted lazily into view, bone yellow and pitted, eyes hollow, before seeing Sheik hunched over in the water like a lost soaking puppy and changing its course, teeth chattering with unmistakable glee.

Sheik whimpered. First zombies, now floating skulls? How could this possibly get worse?

The skull suddenly burst into ethereal green flames.

Yelling hoarsely, Sheik floundered backward in the water, splashing spastically, desperate to get away, to defend himself, to do something…!

His hand brushed against something long and thin in the water.

 _A stick!_ He thought excitedly, hastily closing his fingers around it and jerking it up, ready to defend himself.

To his horror, what he held in his hand was not a stick, but rather the slimy, dismembered length of a femur bone.

Blanching, Sheik turned and hastily hurled it at the swiftly approaching skull, eager to be rid of them both. Luckily his aim was true; the bone struck the flaming skull with a satisfying ‘thunk!’ and the two toppled into the filthy water of the canal, the green flames extinguishing with a hiss.

Breathing heavily, Sheik leaned against the wall of the canal, pulling himself upright, dripping wet and willing his limbs to stop shaking so badly. At least he was safe for the moment…

Without warning, the skull began to splash around in the shallow sewer water, flailing like a fish, and Sheik decided that it was perhaps better to relocate. Hurrying backward away from the skull, Sheik turned the corner and sloshed forward a few steps, ignoring the things his feet brushed up against and trying not to imagine what they were before noticing an alcove up out of the trench to his left. Hoisting himself up out of the canal, he stumbled wearily into the temporary refuge and collapsed on the ground with his back against the wall, panting heavily, eyes wide open and manic, darting every direction, searching for danger.

In his heightened state of panic, everything, every distant drop of water, every stale gust of wind, made his muscles tense and heart rate spike. Such being the case, when he turned his head to glance back into the alcove he’d secreted himself within and noticed the skeleton chained to the wall sitting beside him, it took a herculean amount of willpower to stop himself from shrieking like a little girl.

The shock of seeing the rotted bones so close to him was enough to paralyze his entire body with fear, but after a few ribcage-bursting heartbeats passed and it hadn’t started lunging for his flesh, he allowed himself to calm down just a little. _After all,_ he told himself rationally, in his irrational state of mind, _just because the last skull you saw tried to kill you doesn’t mean they all will._

That made sense, right? …right?

Tentatively unclenching his fists and trying to quell his trembling, Sheik let out a slow, shaky breath. Ok… Alright… Din, just… just think this through. Where are you? What are you doing here? And what in the Goddesses’ name were those… those… _things?!_

Sheik allowed his eyes to squeeze shut for a moment and rested his head back against the grimy wall, trying to organize his scattered thoughts. Somehow, he’d found himself thrust into the rotting, diseased underbelly of Castleton, most likely in the ancient catacombs from the days of the once proud Hyrulean monarchy, judging by the age of the architecture. How he’d gotten there, he didn’t know. Where his friends were, he didn’t know. Why he was down there…? Maybe those crooks who’d caught him in the museum had stashed his body down there after they’d presumably knocked him out, but… something about that wasn’t holding any water. Unfortunately, he couldn’t think straight enough to see what it was.

Zombies! How on earth were there zombies?! That didn’t… it wasn’t… This wasn’t even scientifically possible! Zombies weren’t _real_ … well, maybe the diseased zombie could technically happen, if his years of movie watching knowledge was anything to go off of, but the living dead variety that he was currently facing… No, that was impossible.

He flirted with the idea that he was maybe going crazy… but the cold he was experiencing batted away the thought that this could be a dream or hallucination. It was too real. All of this was too real.

The wind whipped by again, tousling his damp hair and causing the chains on the skeleton to creak and rattle.

_“…One who gains the Eye of Truth will be able to see what lies hidden in the darkness…”_

Sheik’s eyes snapped open, glancing around hastily. This time was no mistake, he’d definitely heard a voice! But from where?! He was alone!

To his right was the canal he’d come from. In front of him, a wall. Behind him, another wall. To his left, the passageway was blocked by a row of rusted metal bars, but from what he could see beyond them in the poorly lit passageway, it was empty. He was alone in the alcove. Just him, and the skeleton chained up beside him…

Something sickening settled in the pit of his stomach. Turning slowly, Sheik examined the skeleton with guarded apprehension.

It rested back against the wall impotently. Arms extended aloft to either side, held up by their chains, his head lolled to the side. Its legs extended out in front of him (or her; he really didn’t know), and all of the flesh was gone from its corpse, signifying to him that it had been there a long, long time. It was very much dead, Sheik decided firmly. Still… it was definitely giving him the creeps, what with its wide, hollow eye sockets set deep within its unusually round skull, and its grin… So wide, so… dead. Like it was laughing, mocking their shared mortality.

…Had its face been turned toward him when he’d entered the alcove?

Sheik frowned, feeling bile rise up in his throat. Come on, now; if it hadn’t attacked you yet why would it now? Then again… every other dead thing he’d seen had been secretly alive and tried to kill him. Why would this be any different? And that voice… could it have been coming from him?

Still… how did he go about this? If the voice he’d heard really came from the skeleton, how was he supposed to communicate with it? Did he just… ask? Just like that? What if it came to life and attacked him? What if him talking attracted the attention of some other monsters? Then again, what choice did he really have? He had to try.

Steeling himself, Sheik swallowed hard, cleared his throat, swallowed again, opened his mouth, hesitated, and then finally managed to whisper softly, “…Uh …Where am I supposed to go?”

In response, the skeleton keeled over sideways, collapsing with a rattle against the stone floor.

The sudden movement had been so unexpected that Sheik leaped backward, a girly shriek ripping from his throat before he was able to stop himself. He sat frozen with shock, eyes wide, one arm thrown up protectively as the studied the motionless skeleton, heart thundering in his chest.

Then the tension passed, and Sheik felt his shoulders slump, embarrassment and frustration flooding over him.

Nothing sinister had happened; the stupid thing just keeled over. He’d probably jostled it by accident when he’d sat down and after sitting here for centuries, the dang thing just fell apart. Looking closer he could see one of its hands had detached from the arm and remained dangling on the cufflink. Sighing, he clenched his fists on his knees and steadied his breathing, feeling terribly foolish for trying to talk to a dead person.

Something caught his eye; the skeleton's body had flopped uselessly to the side, but its other arm… it must have slid free of the cufflink, as the hand was still attached, but there was something odd about the angle it was lying in. The elbow was bent, the wrist slightly turned, and the index finger was extended, almost as if it was trying to point him in the direction the canal was going.

Sheik turned to the skeleton, then back to the canal. To the skeleton, then the canal. The wide, empty eye sockets of the emaciated skull seemed to be taunting him.

Sighing, Sheik clambered awkwardly to his feet, preparing himself for the worst; sure, it was probably stupid to be taking directions from a lifeless corpse, but then… it’s not like he had anything better to do.

Just before he took off, he turned back to the skeleton and mumbled, “Um… thanks, I guess.”

The canal glowed green again, and he waited until the flaming skull passed by before hopping in and following it at a discrete distance, careful not to splash too much. He’d have simply stayed up on the walkway, but years of age had apparently taken its toll on the sewer system; the walkway a few paces beyond his alcove had crumbled into the canal, hunks of brick and mortar visible in the murky water.

It wasn’t long before he found himself passing a doorway. Luckily the walkway above the canal in this section wasn’t yet destroyed, and Sheik hastily heaved himself upward, grateful to be out of the sludge once more.

Din, but he was cold… he regretted now wearing long-sleeves. The fabric clung to his body, still dripping, and every stale gust of wind sent renewed shivers down his body. The cold was also draining his energy, and he had to push himself with extra vigor to rise to a standing position in front of the doorway, dust covering the front of his body, sticking to the wet material. If only Midna could see him now…

The door itself was of the rotting wooden variety. He tested the doorknob to find it was locked, but one glance at the state of the wood told him this wasn’t going to be a problem. Bracing himself with one hand on the wall, he lashed out at the door with his most powerful kick and was rewarded with a satisfactory splintering sound as the door’s lover half caved inward. It only took a few more kicks for a hole wide enough for him to slip through was formed. Maybe all this decay had its advantages…

Scrambling through on hands and feet, careful not to nick himself on the splinters, Sheik managed to worm his way into the room. He rose to his feet cautiously, ready to fight or scream or wet himself as the situation demanded, but found himself alone in a relatively small area, with only two things of note.

The first was another mural, only this one he recognized; it was the Sheikah symbol, the bleeding eye of his heritage. He scowled. Of course that would be here. Not that he was surprised; Sheikah imagery was everywhere to be found, especially if what you were dealing with was ancient, but it seemed to fit that the worst night of his life would be branded with that horrible image.

Stupid Sheikah… stupidly aligning themselves as the Royal Family’s slaves… stupid destinies that they couldn’t alter…

The second object in the room was a surprise. It was a chest; a large, black, metal chest that stood in the center of the room without adornments or pedestal. It just sat there, like it was waiting…

Sheik licked his lips; common sense stated that you shouldn’t go poking around where you didn’t belong. This was doubly true when you were surrounded by the living dead. If years of movie watching had told him anything, he would probably get all the flesh torn from his bones if he opened that chest, so it wasn’t worth trying. It was probably locked anyway, or if not, empty, so why did it matter?

On the other hand…

He slowly approached the chest, feeling the fear and exhaustion melt away, being replaced by something brighter… boyish excitement.

This was a treasure chest! A real-life, honest to goodness treasure chest! Like in pirate stories, or Indiana Jones movies! He’s always wanted to find an actual treasure chest, and now, here one was! How could he possibly resist what would probably be his one and only chance at achieving a childhood fantasy?!

Was it foolish? Yes. Did he care? Not particularly. Man, his friends would be so jealous…!

Throwing caution to the wind, he gave in to his curiosity and opened the chest.

To his relief, there were no explosions, no monsters, and no soul-sucking of any kind. The inside was lined with beautiful red velvet which had mysteriously not decayed in the slightest despite their surroundings. Most of the hollow space was filled with a single puffy cushion, upon which sat probably the most peculiar object Sheik had ever seen.

It looked like a purple magnifying glass, only the bottom of the handle was ornamented with a golden band and the top part of the rim held three red triangles like some sort of demonic crown. That wasn't the odd part though; what was strange was the eyeglass itself. The lens sported a diamond-shaped image in its center, blood-red, that almost looked like the pupil of a cat. The outside edges were a much lighter shade of pinkish-lavender. Altogether, it was in the shape of the Sheikah symbol.

He frowned as he closed his fingers around the cold metal handle and lifted it up to get a closer look. It must be a pain to look through; how could you see clearly through red glass? Who would ever make such a thing, and why go through the effort of preserving it in a chest in some old, forgotten catacomb?

“It has been a long time.”

Sheik whirled around with a start, eyes wide, bizarre magnifying glass held aloft like a dagger… but there was no one there. Panting heavily, his eyes darted to search every nook and cranny of the room, searching for the source of the voice.

“What is the matter?” the voice said again; it was gruff, though distinctly feminine, and with a crisp bark of authority that sounded vaguely familiar. “Why do you hesitate?”

Sheik swallowed thickly, feeling terror start to build up inside of him. First zombies, then flaming skulls… now more voices from nowhere?! Don’t tell him he had to deal with a ghost… he couldn’t punch a ghost…

“Who…” he started, then hesitated, licking his lips and glancing around warily. “…Where are you?”

There was a derogative snort, which sounded odd, disembodied, and the specter replied, “Look through the glass, and all shall be revealed.”

Sheik blinked. Look through the magnifying glass? How was that supposed to help him? Unless of course, the ghost was really, really small… Still, he may as well do as the ghost said. He didn't want to anger it and give it a reason to rip out his soul or possess him or something.

Slowly, Sheik raised the glass up to his eye, preparing himself for the worst, most disgusting, hideous, ghoulish abomination his imagination could concoct.

When he peered through the glass, something happened to his vision; he'd never suffered from problems with his eyesight, but if he had to guess, he'd say he went through something similar to what a near-sided person experienced putting on glasses for the first time. Everything was suddenly sharper, clearer, cleaner… truer. He felt like he was finally seeing the real world for the first time.

And the figure… standing only a few feet in front of him…

She smirked, giving a stiff, approving nod when his blood-red irises met her own.

He felt like he was falling.

“Congratulations for coming this far, boy,” his mother stated, without an ounce of emotion in her voice. Sheik could only blink, his jaw sliding open and a veritable whirlwind of emotions raging through him. Shock, surprise, confusion, sorrow, hurt, betrayal, pain… Her body looked different; healthier than he’d last seen her, stronger, more fit, but though her eyes had lost that glassy, yellowed look that years of drug and alcohol abuse had given them, they hadn’t lost their cold distaste.

While he struggled to process what he was seeing, she continued.

“To be frank, I didn’t think you had it in you. Never mind that now. Weak and ignorant as you currently are, you have no hope to survive this place. I can help you-“

“Shut up.” Sheik suddenly spat, finding his voice. He was shaking again, but not from the cold. The veritable maelstrom of emotions bouncing around in his heart had solidified into one unified mass of hatred, directed entirely at the woman before him. The woman who had the gall to call herself his mother.

She quirked a brow at him but didn’t respond. He took that as his cue to continue.

“What in the Goddesses name are you doing here?” he grated out, glaring for all he was worth through the tinted glass.

“Enjoying my death.” Impa Shadow replied flatly, a wry twist to her lips.

Sheik blinked, caught off-guard by her frankness. “You… what?”

"Death. I'm dead, Sheik. Have you forgotten already?" Her tone was mocking and only served to infuriate him further.

“No, _mom,_ I haven’t forgotten. I meant, why are you here in this… this… place.”

He gestured absently with his free hand, searching for a word to describe where they were, but his anger was getting the better of him, scattering his thoughts.

“We’re in the Kakariko Well, boy. It is a sacred place for those like us. As for why I am here, it is because you are in danger-“

He couldn’t stop the derisive snort that tore itself from him. “Oh, well, goodness me; poor little Sheik is in trouble, guess it’s mommy to the rescue. I don’t get why you bothered; you left me to care for myself when I was a kid, what’s so different now?”

Impa’s face was as unfeeling as stone. “Our destinies are in part the will of the Goddesses, it is not our place to question-“

“Oh, go screw yourself.” Sheik hissed, tearing his gaze away from her, lowering the lens and tearing at his hair with his free hand. His eyes were burning, and he turned away before she could see, silently willing his hatred to overpower the anguish that had unexpectedly swelled up inside of him. “I spent my whole life caring for myself because you never could. You were always too busy with your habits to pay attention to the starving child at your feet. And now, once you’d finally died, once I was finally rid of you, you come back to haunt me?! You ruined my life once, don’t do it again!”

There was more he wanted to say, but emotion was starting to choke up his voice, and he absolutely refused to let her see him cry. She didn’t deserve his pain; she didn’t deserve his sorrow. She didn’t deserve anything.

"…Are you finished yet?" She drawled flippantly and had to stop himself from hurling the odd purple magnifying glass in her direction.

“Good. Now listen. This is the Kakariko Well, ancient grounds of the Sheikah people, where their young proved themselves in the clan’s sacred coming of age ceremony. All Sheikah must first pass this test before they are worthy to protect the Royal Family. Now it is your turn.”

Exasperated, Sheik whipped the lens back up to his eye and glared at his mother’s ghost. “What… That’s… I don’t give two rats’ farts about the Sheikah! Or the Royal Family, which, FYI, doesn’t even exist anymore! What, are you saying I have to become some sort of religious bodyguard for the Prime Minister? Why don’t you just float back to your grave and stay out of my life, alright? I don’t need you. I’ve _never_ needed you.

“Actually,” he said quickly, cutting her off as she opened her mouth to respond, “I’ll do you one better. Since you seem to be on a ‘being a good mother’ kick at the moment, why don’t you do this: help me find my friends and get out of here. That’s all I want. If you ever cared for me even a little bit, then you’ll do that. If you can’t, then leave. I’m done.”

“The only way out is to pass the test.” She replied calmly. Sheik sputtered, infuriated, but she pressed on. "In the chest, beneath the cushion, you'll find another gift; one more relic sacred both to Hyrule's history and to our people, much like the Lens of Truth you currently possess. This tool will help you in your test; it is a gift, imparted to us for safekeeping by the Hero himself."

Sheik blinked, suddenly unsure. The Hero… of Time?

She nodded towards the chest, and he hesitated for a moment, swallowing gruffly as he considered his options before manning up and striding forward. Seizing the red velvet cushion, he ripped it off in one fluid motion, ready for anything.

He felt his eyebrows climbing into his hair.

“Uh…”

“What you see is the Hero’s Bow; a sacred treasure of the Hero and one of the prides of our clan.”

Sheik pursed his lips as he gingerly touched the wooden handle, surprised by how well-kept it seemed. For something apparently so old, it looked brand new; the wood was beautifully lacquered and adorned with gold filigree. He knew little about archery, but he did know that bows weren't supposed to be stored while they were strung, yet this one was. Was it magic that it didn't break?

Normally, that thought would have seemed insane, but… well, he was in a sewer full of zombies talking to his mother’s ghost. ‘Magic’ suddenly seemed like the least bizarre thing that was going on.

Next to the bow was a large quiver, full of surprisingly long arrows, resting parallel atop a bundle of some sort of cloth…

“I also took the liberty of procuring you new clothing. What you have now is… ill-fitting to the environment, as well as blasphemous to the sacredness of your trial.”

Sheik scowled, flashing a red-eyed glare towards his mother through the lens.

“I told you already, I’m not doing any stupid test. I hate this stupid clan, I don’t want any part of it. I just want to get my friends and leave.”

“Impudent boy. Your friends are not here.” He flicked his gaze back up from the bow in surprise, but she pressed on. “And as I’ve already informed you, the only way out is success. This Well was built as a way to test young Sheikah, as a way for them to awaken their powers. If you do not pass, you cannot save your friends.

"Your dangers and challenges are only starting, Sheik. You must accept your heritage if you are to help them. Even more… you may be able to aid the Hero himself and protect the last line of the Royal Family. Be bold, my son; do not fear the Shadow."

And just like that, she was gone.

Sheik blinked, quickly jerking he head around, searching for her with the lens, but it was no use. Grumbling, he lowered the lens and examined the bow and quiver.

He hated the Sheikah. He hated his family. He hated his mother. He hated this test. He hated his life. Gods, all he wanted was to be with his friends, the ones who made him forget the events of last year and what a monster he truly was. He would do anything for them. Anything.

And… if his mother was right? If they were in danger? Would he go through this test if that’s what it took to save them?

Did he even have a choice?

Hefting the bow, Sheik tugged on the string thoughtfully. He seriously had no clue how to use this thing and was probably going to shoot himself in the foot. That being said, it was better than nothing, so he might as well take it. At worst, he could use it as a bludgeon.

And the clothes?

…Well, his were soaking wet and reeked of death, so he might as well take those too. That didn't mean he had to like it, however.

Once he’d finished changing and hefted his bow, the mural on the back wall lifted up, revealing a downward sloping passageway.

Sheik sighed behind his cowl. Down, not up. That meant he was going deeper into this madness.

Why did all the nasty crap have to happen to him?

 


	8. On Stranger Tides

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I have a perverse fascination with making my chapter titles be out-of-place references to other movies, song titles, games, etc. Why am I the way I am?

When Marin opened her eyes, the first thing she noticed was the smell. Admittedly, that was a little off, but that was just how Marin worked; eyes opened, and she noticed the smell. Her eyes saw nothing but wooden planks making up the floor, the walls, the ceiling, but her nose… oh, but her nose… smelled the sea.

The salt on the air was undeniable. It filled her lungs as she inhaled, and her heart seemed to expand within her chest, swelling with happy memories of her home in Koholint, of the beaches she grew up playing on, the spray of the sea, the crunch of the sand, the boats lined up in the harbor…

Lost in thought, it took her a moment to realize that the world seemed to be heaving back and forth. The wooden room she was in creaked occasionally in that old-fashioned sort of way she’d come to think of as ‘constructional arthritis’. Something akin to wonder bubbled up inside of her as the pieces all started falling into place, and she took a few tentative steps forward to place her cheek against the aged wooden wall, a content sigh leaving her lips.

 _I’m home._ She thought giddily. _I’m back._

“I’m on a boat!”

A derisive snort was heard from somewhere close behind her.

“Really, Andy Samberg? You just now figuring that out?”

Embarrassed at forgetting herself in public, Marin turned quickly away from the wall to face the tall, portly, middle-aged man standing behind her. He had a rather bulbous red nose under a heavy scowl and lanky salt-and-pepper hair that hung down to his collar in spite of his receding hairline. His mouth was a downturned slash lost in a forest of stubble which, coupled with the lines under his eyes and crinkles on his forehead, seemed to give the impression that he wasn’t a particularly happy man. Marin found herself pitying him; grouchy old people always plucked at her heartstrings. What was his name again? Lionel?

She giggled abashedly, feeling her face flush as red as her hair. “Ha… Sorry, Mr. Lionel, I got a little excited there. Also, um… My name isn’t Andy.”

“No kidding,” he shot back, “Well mine isn’t Lionel, it’s Linebeck, so get your head out of the clouds and help me figure out what’s going on here.”

Marin blinked at his unexpected brusqueness, then decided to focus on her surroundings for once. The room they were in was relatively small, normal for a wooden ship, she knew, but what became immediately apparent to her was the fact that she and the grouchy old person were completely alone.

She felt panic begin welling up inside of her. She didn’t know what kind of man this ‘Linebeck’ person was, only that he worked at the museum and her new friends seemed to trust him. Still… her father had always told her never to be alone with strangers, particularly older men. What if he… what if he… _tried something?_

Immediately her hand grasped her purse and placed it protectively in front of her; it was a good thing she’d brought her mace spray with her, but she was seriously starting to regret wearing that sundress… even if it _was_ adorable… and showed off her shapely legs…

Linebeck caught her staring at him and asked, rather bluntly, “…What?”

“O-oh, um, n-nothing, I was just… looking,” she blathered anxiously, her shoulders stiff and legs ready to bolt if need be.

“Looking,” he replied flatly, staring at her in consternation.

“Looking,” she agreed with a nod.

“…At what?”

“Oh, uh…” She blinked. She hadn’t expected him to ask… Now what? She couldn’t say, ‘looking for signs you’re a sexual predator’; that was rude! She gave him a critical once-over, looking for anything of interest. “…Your nose?”

There was a beat. The two stood silent on opposite ends of the room, staring at each other with equal looks of surprise and uncertainty on their faces. Marin could feel the nervous sweat trickling down her back. Finally, the older man exploded.

“M-my _nose?!_ ” he squawked, flustered and indignant, pulling himself up to his full height. “What do you have against my nose?!”

“N-no! Nothing, really! I like your nose! It’s so shiny and cheerful, like Rudolf!”

“Like _what?!_ ” he was practically shrieking now, his face so red and livid that his nose no longer stood out, “I’m not-! That isn’t-! _I’m not a reindeer!_ ”

Marin swallowed gingerly, shrinking back against the wall, feeling mortified. Oh dear… She must’ve said something wrong. Mr. Linebeck looked about ready to explode at her, the way he was standing totally rigid, fists clenched at his sides, face beet red, shoulders hunched, body quaking…

Before she could attempt to rectify the situation, another voice butted in, this one high and childish.

“Haha! Ok guys, I guess it’s your turn! Ready for your test?”

Marin’s doubts of Linebeck being a serial rapist and the security guard’s nasal insecurities were both instantly forgotten as the two made eye contact and twirled around, searching for the source of the voice. The room, however, was small; maybe six feet by ten, with a low ceiling and only a ladder at the far side of the room that led up to a trap door. There was nobody around.

“Who’s there?!” Linebeck shouted, sounding irate. “Who are you?! Where am I?! I demand to speak with your superior!”

“Huh?” The voice asked, confused.

“He means your boss!” Marin chirped helpfully.

“That’s right! I demand you let us out of this… this… wherever this is! Take us back to the museum this instant! I cannot lose my job again, my girlfriend will kill me!”

A sudden sense of relief washed over Marin. “Oh, so you’re already romantically involved! Gods, I feel so much better!”

The voice didn’t seem too particularly amused by their spat.

“Listen, guys. Nobody’s going anywhere till you pass the test. Those are the rules of the game, remember?”

“Well, I don’t remember signing up for any games!” Linebeck retorted, once again all righteous indignation. He sort of reminded her of a peacock; all strut and fluster. “Tell us where you put the others and get us out of here and maybe we’ll choose not to press charges for kidnap and burglary!”

Marin felt like she’d been knocked over in the sea by an unexpected swell. The others! She’d totally forgotten about them! Farore, but she needed to work on her attention span…!

“Well, I don’t care what you want! I make the rules! Now shut your trap, you old fart, and listen up!”

Linebeck looked about ready to implode, but the boy was speaking again before he could do more than splutter.

“Ingenuity was always one of the Hero’s strongest assets, but now you’re up to bat. Can you correctly utilize the tools at your disposal to escape your prison, or will you be trapped in these dark confines for eternity? Freedom flourishes in the sunlight… This is a test of your _cunning_.”

And then the voice was gone.

Marin glanced at Linebeck, who had a sort of constipated look upon his face. “…Mr. Linebeck? What was he talking about?”

He simply shook his head mutely, his face turning a sickly grey color.

Maybe he wasn’t a peacock after all… maybe he was a chameleon. 

“So…” she continued, hoping that if she kept on talking he’d snap out of it and follow along; if she was gonna be trapped here with this man, he needed to participate. She wasn’t good with silence. “He said something about… escaping, and… being trapped forever if we fail… and something about a Hero, and a test of smartness or…”

There was a blinding flash of light, in which Marin shrieked and hid her face and Linebeck let out a squawk loud enough to make a parrot jealous. When it died down a moment later and Marin allowed her sea-green eyes to blink back open in surprise, she noticed there’d been a slight change in decor.

Against the far wall by the ladder sat two concrete pedestals made in the Doric fashion. They must have appeared in that bright flash of light because they hadn't been there a moment before. Even more interesting was what was perched atop them.

On the left sat what looked like a small blue hourglass, though the golden sand within was stuck in the uppermost chamber and wasn’t falling down. The right held a thin white stick.

"Well, what in Din's name was that about?" Linebeck barked, offended, to nobody in particular, stomping towards the pedestals like an outraged gorilla. Clearly, he was a little lacking in the patience department. She would need to remember that.

"I guess these are the tools the masked boy was talking about?" Marin offered quietly, joining Linebeck by the pedestals. Before he could respond, her eyes landed on what she'd previously thought to be a white stick and felt her stomach drop out.

“ _Oh… My… Gods…”_ she breathed, seizing both sides of the grey concrete pedestal and gaping rigidly at the sacred object before her. “This is… this is… _this is the Wind Waker!”_

Linebeck gave a sour grunt in response, hefting the hourglass and frowning at it as though he weren't currently holding an ancient object of incredible historical significance. "Looks like it. And this is the Phantom Hourglass. Apparently, the Mask wasn't the only thing those thieves were messing with."

Deciding that if Mr. Linebeck the security guard thought it was ok to touch them, then she may as well pick up the baton. Tentatively, fingers trembling with excitement, she grasped the small ivory implement by its handle and held it up for closer inspection.

Some part of her had just died and gone to the Sacred Realm. This right here was a dream come true for a music buff like her; sure, she was a choir student, not a conductor, but that didn’t stop her from appreciating the history of the Waker Islands’ most prized historical artifact. It was said that with this in hand, the Hero of Winds bent the tempests to his will and caused the air to sing…

She was supposed to perform the Ballad of the Wind Fish alongside the Hyrulean National Symphony Orchestra tomorrow evening. Medli and Makar would be there as well, performing before her with a group of other accomplished high-schoolers who’d be playing various renditions of music inspired by tales of the Hero in different parts of the world. The highlight of the night, at least for her, was the fact that the conductor was supposed to be using this very baton… To think that she’d be considered worthy of something so special…

Something like dread seized her heart. If this baton was here, then… how were they supposed to conduct tomorrow night?! Was her whole magical musical experience going to fall to pieces because of the actions of one group of thieves?!

But then… if thieves really had stolen these things… why were they randomly sitting on pedestals in this room with them? And why tell them they were playing games?

Frowning, Marin turned to Linebeck and voiced her question, eager for his two cents.

The portly man frowned, then shrugged his shoulders. “I dunno, Red. They’re obviously criminal masterminds. All I know for sure is that the kid who talked to us just now is the same punk who stole Majora’s Mask, and I don’t feel like playing his game.”

Marin scrunched up her eyebrows in thought. “But… if they went through all that effort to steal them… why leave them lying around for us to find, or go wearing it on his face? I mean, these three things- the mask, the baton, and the hourglass… they’re national treasures of Termina, and the Waker and Phantom Isles. They could make a lot of money off them, selling them to the right people. Why make us play silly games with them where they could be broken or damaged?”

This time, even Linebeck looked doubtful, frowning at the little hourglass in his hands.

The truth hit Marin so hard, she almost couldn’t speak to get the words out.

“…Oh! Oh! Oh oh oh- Mr. Linebeck, I got it! I know what’s going on!”

“You do?! Well spit it out, Red, I don’t have all day!”

“ _We’re on a game show!”_

Linebeck stared.

“Well, just think about it!” she gushed excitedly, jiggling her hands and bouncing hyperactively on her toes, struggling to contain herself. “Floating boys, stolen historical artifacts, silly games we have to play… this must be some sort of publicity game show thingy the museum is putting on!”

Linebeck sighed wearily, scrubbing at his face. "Listen, kid, I don't think that-"

“Oh come on! It makes perfect sense! These are probably just props! You work here, you must have seen something weird going on!”

He gestured awkwardly with his free hand, avoiding eye contact. “I mean, yeah, they’ve been pretty secretive about bringing something in for display in the King of Thieves room, but…”

"That must be it! It was all a cover-up for this game show! And we get to be the first contestants! Ah, this is so exciting!"

Despite the obvious delight on Marin’s face, Linebeck didn’t seem to share her enthusiasm. He sighed, then looked her dead in the eye.

“You’re crazy,” he stated bluntly, and Marin’s shoulders slumped, feeling a little put-out. “And you know what? I don’t care why any of this is going on. All I know is we need to get out of here and if I let anything happen to these artifacts it’s my head on the line, so we’re taking them with us. Try not to break it, ok?”

“Ok!” Marin chirped happily, quickly following behind Linebeck as he grasped the rungs of the ladder and began heaving himself up out of the room.

She still thought this was a game show. If he didn’t believe it, that simply meant that he wasn’t taking it seriously, and she’d be the one to win.

The climb up the ladder didn’t take very long, and before she knew it she and Linebeck were standing side-by-side in a narrow hallway.

"Well, now what?” Linebeck grumped, looking sour.

The floors and walls were all made up of old, wooden planks like the room they’d just left. Everything still rocked gently back and forth, and little gas lights hung on the walls in intervals to provide lighting. There weren’t any windows or pictures, no decorations. Just plain, boring wood as far as the eye could see.

"The boy said we had to use our tools to escape or something. I guess we have to walk around and find the exit."

Linebeck grumbled but acquiesced, and the two began their merry jaunt down the tight passageway.

“The thing I can’t understand,” Linebeck said suddenly, “is how we got on a boat. Do you think they knocked us out and carried us here? It doesn’t seem likely; it was like I blinked and suddenly I was here. How did they get us out of the atrium and away from the rest of those brats so quickly? And why go through all this trouble anyway?”

Marin shrugged. “I don’t know. How far is the nearest body of water?”

“Castleton’s got a river, maybe fifteen minutes away, but it’s not very large. You wouldn’t think something as big as this ship could fit in it.”

“Do you think we could maybe be in a fake boat?”

“If it’s fake, it’s pretty convincing.”

“Yeah… With the smells and the rocking and the sounds-“

A heavy metal clanking noise rang out from behind them.

As one, Linebeck and Marin turned to glance over their shoulders and stopped, stunned.

Behind, rounding the corner at the end of the corridor, was a massive suit of dark armor carrying an enormous sword. Judging from the sheer size of the chest plate and greaves, the person wearing it must have been massive. The armor plating was grayish green and black, with swirl patterns, and the helmet bore horns like a bull. It carried a massive rectangular shield in the other hand. From the opening in the helmet where the eyes should be, Marin saw only darkness.

It looked at them. They looked at it. It raised its sword and let out a fierce bellow. Linebeck seized Marin’s arm and screamed like a girl. As one, the three began sprinting down the hallway; Marin and Linebeck running for their lives, and the random suit of armor giving chase.

Feet thundering on wooden floorboards, the two terrified prisoners rounded a corner and were met with two choices; go straight or turn left. They opted for straight, hurrying passed the branching corridor and towards another corner they could see coming up on the right, only as they drew near another suit of armor appeared. Skidding frantically to a halt yet never faltering in their terrified screaming, they whirled around and headed back towards the left turn.

The first suit of armor rounded the corner just ahead of them, hefting his heavy sword. Reflexively, Marin threw her arms up to cover her face, drawing the Wind Waker through the air as she did.

A sudden powerful gust of wind blew through the corridor; it whistled uselessly through the gaps in the armor, but it was enough to blow the sword off track, and it passed harmlessly by her left shoulder.

Before she could gawk at what had just happened, Linebeck seized her by the arm and yanked her down the adjoining hallway before the second suit could skewer her from behind.

“What’s going on?!” She bellowed to Linebeck who was running just in front of her. Behind, the two suits of armor struggled to enter the hallway simultaneously and give chase.

“I don’t know! Just keep running!” He replied sensibly.

Up ahead to the right was a doorway. As they neared it, Marin could see the floor within the room was tiled and, even more bizarre, glowing a faint pink. Her initial urge was to pass it by, seeing as cowering in a room with two crazy suits of armor chasing you with swords seemed like a bad idea, only from around the bend in front of them a third suit of armor emerged, identical to the first two, apparently having been alerted by the racket. Without preamble, it began charging towards them. 

Lacking any other options, Marin and Linebeck let out twin bellows of fear and dove headlong into the pink floored room, cowering.

The footsteps drew near and Marin hastily began digging through her purse, ready to mace the suits of armor right in their helmet-y faces, only the oddest thing happened; all three suits of armor converged at the front of the room, stopped at the doorway, looked around as if their prey had suddenly vanished from existence, shrugged comically, then stomped away.

Marin and Linebeck sat on the floor of the pink tiled room, panting heavily, for an indeterminate amount of time. Marin didn’t think she’d ever run so hard in her life; her throat felt ragged and her heart was about ready to keel over and call it quits. Her legs felt like jelly, and she was really regretting deciding to wear those flats that morning. Linebeck turned to her, still a little pink in the face, and gasped out a weak, “What… on earth… was that?”

“Dunno,” she replied. “I guess… they’re like sentries? Or robot guards or something? And this pink place must be… a safe zone, I think. We probably have to sneak past them to win the prize.”

“For the love of Nayru, are you still on that game show kick?!” He moaned, toppling over onto his back, his arms splayed out on either side. Unfortunately for him, this only made his gut more prominent.

"Well, what other explanation is there?" She asked innocently, drawing her knees up to her chest and checking to be sure her skirt was in place.

“Dunno, but why would robot guards on a game show try to stab us with giant swords?” He asked wryly.

“Hmm… Maybe this is like, a virtual reality game show?”

“…Now you’re just making this stuff up, Red.”

“Why are you calling me that? My name isn’t ‘Red’, it’s Marin.”

Linebeck scoffed. “Red, Sparkles, the Kid, Emo, Princess, Pigtails… whatever. How do you possibly expect me to keep up with all your names? It’s like that memorization technique thingy; word associations. It’s how I know who all of you are.”

Marin frowned; she wasn’t certain, but she was pretty sure that wasn’t how the word association technique worked.

“Anyway. What do you suggest we do now? I don’t feel like getting shish-kababed by those weird robot hall monitor things.”

“We have to go back out eventually. Staying here won’t get us off this ship. I mean… Do we really have a choice?” Marin asked.

“We could live here forever in this weird glowy-floor room.”

“There isn’t any food or water. Besides, we just need to look at this intellectually; we scope out their walking patterns, make sure they don’t catch us, and find the exit. Piece of cake.”

Linebeck didn’t say anything, so she assumed he was mulling it over and decided to try something out. Earlier, when the suits of armor were chasing them, she’d felt the wind come and push the sword swipe out of the way, saving her. The only possible explanation for that was in her hand… only…

Holding up the Wind Waker, she examined it critically like she would when sight reading a sheet of music; the entire baton was made of ivory, beautifully carved so that it looked like swirling puffs of wind made up the handle and cross-guard. The fact that it even had a cross-guard made it look a bit like a sword, making one think that it was perhaps used as a weapon, but that was nonsensical; it was a conductor’s baton, after all. What about this could possibly be violent?

As though to test it out, she held it aloft in the air and swished it downward.

A gust of air tore through the room, blasting through her hair and nearly blowing her dress up. Mortified, she threw her arms around her legs and cast an embarrassed glance at Linebeck, who merely looked at her askance.

“What was that?” He asked dully.

He must not have realized that the gust of air had come from her. Delighted at her discovery, though cautious towards her decency, she scrambled up onto her knees and exclaimed, “Look at this!”

This time she swept it sideways; a powerful gale circled the room before dissipating, mussing Linebeck’s thinning hair.

His eyebrows crept up his forehead like caterpillars.

“Good Farore…” he breathed, pushing himself to a sitting position. “Do that again!”

Giggling, she slashed it diagonally, and clouds of dust billowed up around the floorboards.

“That’s amazing!” he cried, leaping to his feet. “How does that work?! How did you… Try conducting something!”

She frowned thoughtfully. She hadn’t even considered that. But what to conduct…?

She tried a simple ¾ time rhythm.

The air grew cold and turbulent. The boat began rocking more violently. Linebeck pitched to the side in surprise, and in the distance they heard the ominous boom of thunder. The boat rattled.

"Ok, ok, stop!" he cried shrilly. Confused, Marin ended the tempo by swishing the baton in a circle and letting it trail off like a conductor would do when ending a song. Almost immediately, the air warmed back up and the boat stopped rocking as violently.

“Light…” Marin breathed, staring down at the Wind Waker in her hands. A million questions exploded in her head like popcorn kernels in a microwave, but the loudest thought that kept coming back to her was, “It’s true… it’s really true! The legends were right! Goddesses, Mr. Linebeck, what… what does this mean?!”

Rather than answer her, Marin saw that Linebeck was staring down at the Phantom Hourglass in consternation, flipping it over and over to no avail.

“Oh, come on!” he bellowed, stomping his foot and jerking the small blue object through the air as though he were wringing somebody’s neck. “The girl gets sweet magical powers and I get nothing?! That’s so not fair! I want a re-do!”

“Hey.”

Linebeck glanced up at Marin, expectant.

"I think we can maybe get past the suits of armor now."

He frowned, looking uncertain. “You sure, Red?”

“Positive.”

He sighed, shooting one last bitter look at the hourglass before pocketing it and placing his hands on the hips of his grey jumpsuit.

“Alright then, kid. Lead the way.”

The trek back through the boat's corridors was tense and sneaky; it reminded her a lot of the old cartoons she used to watch, to be honest. Both she and Linebeck kept their backs pressed to the walls, scuttling like crabs and trying to peer down both ends of the hallway simultaneously. All they needed now was theme music.

When they reached the corridor they’d come from, Marin spotted one of the guardian suits of armor towards the end, stomping lethargically down the pathway without a care in the world. She motioned for Linebeck to halt, though apparently he misinterpreted her command and bumped painfully into her, but the guard thankfully didn’t hear the sound of their brief scuffle and continued on his merry way.

“What do we do now?!” Linebeck hissed hysterically in her ear, clearly unnerved at the sight of one of their adversaries so close.

“Follow him!” She replied, trying to hide the anxiety in her voice and appear tough. “The exit is probably on the other side of the hallway, which is why they’re guarding it. We just need to be really quiet.”

“And if he sees us?”

She shrugged. “I guess we run screaming back to the pink room; they can’t seem to see us in there.”

Linebeck seized her shoulder and spun her around to face her.

“I thought you said we could do this now! I thought you had an actual plan!”

“I do!” she insisted. “Well… I mean, my plan is to use this to try and blow them away if they get close to us; the rest of the plan is to run like crazy.”

"Oh, gods…" Linebeck moaned, sinking in on himself pathetically, "I'm going to die here, aren't I?"

Marin frowned. “You certainly will with that attitude! Come on, Mr. Linebeck, I want to see some positivity! Everybody knows that attitude determines destiny! Show me a smile!”

He whimpered.

“Close enough! Let’s go!”

In the hallway, the suit of armor rounded the corner, and Marin quickly stepped out from behind the wall and marched determinedly after him. Moaning faintly, Linebeck followed.

From around the clanking form of the suit of armor, she could just make out another bend in the hallway a ways down which bent back to the right. If she had to guess, that hall led back to the hall where they'd started out. The hall continued on beyond that, though; for a wooden sailing ship, they sure had a lot of pointless hallways.

Linebeck was apparently being less productive than she was, however. As they crept silently down the hallway in the wake of the hulking suit of armor who could at any moment spin around, catch them, and skewer them like slices of pineapples and pork at a beachfront barbeque, the lanky janitor had decided that the best use of his time was to vent all of his frustrations and woes in an unbroken stream of nearly inaudible murmured rambles.

"…as if last year wasn't bad enough! Poor Linebeck, doomed to forever be thrust into life-or-death situations where he's trapped in strange locations with bizarre teenagers… First that school and now this boat- a boat! I swore I'd never enter a boat again after the war and look what I got? Death by Red's game show. Jolene will probably be pleased, that blasted woman… She's been on my case ever since… well, I never wanted children; sticky things, always whining, grow up to shoot up their schools and die for pointless reasons, bodies littering the seas like cheerios in a bowl of milk… And now here I am. Dying on a boat. It's Labrynna all over again… Won't get the chance to say goodbye… She doesn't understand…"

Marin said nothing. She wasn't entirely sure what he was talking about, but the comical old janitor was momentarily replaced by a tired, melancholic figure that she could only describe as being sad. Clearly, he had been repressing some serious issues. It made her feel a little bad for the older man, like she wanted to reach out and help him in some way… but at the same time, she felt like she was intruding on his personal thoughts. Still, it wasn't like she could just tune him out…

They'd fallen behind the suit of armor to give themselves a bit more space and to make sure that it didn't notice them following. When it reached the second turn, the one heading back towards the direction of the ladder, it turned and began clanking away. Marin breathed a sigh of relief; at least there weren't any more suits of armor in their sights.

Or was that a bad thing? At least when she could see it she knew where it was.

Picking up their pace a bit, they half-tiptoed, half-jogged towards the intersection where the suit of armor had turned off, peeked down to make sure he wouldn’t notice them pass, then hurriedly darted to the end of the corridor.

Pausing at the corner, the two peered down the next passageway, which tapered off to the right, checking if the coast was clear.

Marin felt her heart leap into her throat with triumph.

The hallway was short, with another exit at the end bending back the way they’d come from; it probably connected to the hallway where the suit of armor had vanished to, the one that led back to the ladder. It was one big, giant rectangle. That wasn’t what caught her attention though; in the middle of the hall, the opposite wall opened up into a small alcove. Secreted in the recess, she could see a treasure chest resting against the far wall, as well as a ladder… A ladder that led up.

They’d found their exit.

There was a problem, however; two things blocked their way forward. A large chain-link fence, and another suit of armor, this one stationary in front of the gate.

Marin groaned; they couldn’t make this easy, could they?

“I can’t believe it…” Linebeck breathed from above her; the two were pressed against the wall, peeking around the corner, and his greater height made it so that his head was practically located on top of hers. She’d crouched down slightly to give him space, but he was still bent over awkwardly to make this possible.

“I know,” Marin lamented. “So close, yet so far… how are we supposed to get to that ladder?”

“Huh? Oh, right, the ladder. That’s important too, I guess. I was talking about the treasure.”

Marin shot him a wry look, and he shrugged sheepishly.

“Hey, it’s not every day you stumble across a treasure chest, right? We’re even on a boat. It’s like… pirate treasure.”

She pursed her lips thoughtfully; he had a point.

“But how do you suppose we get past that guard?”

“Forget the guard,” Linebeck grumbled, “we can probably lure him away with a distraction of some sort; break a pot, sing an opera, you know the drill. I want to know about that fence. How are we supposed to get past it?”

The two tapered off into thoughtful silence before Marin noticed the target attached to the wall just above the alcove.

“We probably have to hit that,” she offered poignantly, pointing to it for Linebeck’s benefit.

The security guard scowled. “What? Really? But that’s so… obvious. I mean, you call that a puzzle? Who designed this place?”

“They probably couldn’t make the game too complicated. Y’know, for the kids.”

“Oh for the love of-! This is not a game show, Red!”

“Suuuure it’s not, Mr. Linebeck,” she replied, winking conspiratorially.

“You know what? Whatever. Just help me figure out how we’re supposed to hit that stupid thing.”

“Well…” she mused, stroking at her chin like she’d seen Linebeck doing earlier; sure, she didn’t have any stubble, but it certainly made her look smarter. She thought. “There’s all sorts of pathways we haven’t taken yet. We’re probably supposed to sneak down those, and maybe find some tool or something to hit that target with. Like a slingshot, or a BB gun… “

Linebeck groaned. “But that could take hours! Who’s got time for that?!”

A sudden stomping sound caught their attention, and Marin's blood turned to ice. As one, the two tore their gaze away from the exit to glance behind them down the hallway and were met by the horrifying sight of a suit of armor charging them from behind, massive sword held aloft as though it meant to impale them both in one fell swoop.

Linebeck screamed, seizing Marin and placing her in front of him.

“Do something! Quick!” he shouted, panicked.

Heart thundering, she did the only thing she could think of; bringing the Wind Waker to bear, she swished it towards the oncoming foe, slowly raising it higher into the air as if encouraging the woodwind section to hold out their note.

A ferocious gale ripped through the hallway, tearing at her and Linebeck’s hair and slamming into the suit of armor like an explosion. The armor was certainly heavy, to be sure, but the wind caught it off balance and with a tremendous crash it toppled backward onto the floor.

“ _Yes!”_ Marin shouted, punching her fist into the air with delight.

“No!” Linebeck answered, gripping her shoulders and wheeling her to face the hallway they’d been spying on. Apparently, their shouts and the sound of the falling suit of armor had attracted the attention of the guard who’d been blocking the chain-link fence. Hefting its sword like a club, the second suit charged them, footsteps thundering on the floor.

“Hurry, hurry, hurry!” Linebeck squealed, cowering behind the smaller girl as if she were a cement wall.

Taking a chance, she twirled the baton in a tight circle, jabbing it at the suit of armor as if she were fencing. A miniature cyclone ripped forth, slamming into the creature’s chest plate, forcing him to turn to the side and slam into the wall. The unexpected collision caused him to trip over his own feet, and he slammed into the ground.

There was no time to celebrate; focusing her attention on the second suit had released the first from the wind that had knocked him over, and he’d already climbed back to his feet and begun rushing them again.

“What’s going on?! I thought you had him!” Linebeck wailed as the two backed against the wall.

“I don’t think I can keep up two streams of wind at once!” Marin called back.

“Well do something, ‘cause it’s almost got us!”

An idea occurred to Marin; conducting in ¾ time had caused a storm that rocked the boat. What would happen if she tried conducting in another time?

She opted for the fastest first. As the behemoth bore down on them, ready to cleave them both in two, Marin conducted a simple 2/4 time melody.

The air grew completely still.

Linebeck seized her arm and yanked her out of the way just as the sword slashed down where they’d been standing.

“W-what happened?!” Linebeck demanded as they stumbled down the hall toward the second suit of armor who was now climbing to his feet.

“I-I think I killed the wind!” Marin wailed anxiously. “I still don’t know what I’m doing!”

Linebeck took her by the forearm and yanked her down the hall, leaping over the second suit of armor who was still struggling to stand and aiming towards the exit.

The floor inside the gate was glowing pink, she could see now that she was closer. If they could just find a way in, they’d be safe…

But how were they supposed to hit that target?!

From the heavy sound of clanking footsteps, their second pursuer was back on his feet. They’d be upon them any second now.

“Oh, if only we had something we could use to hit that!” Marin wailed, feeling the panic begin to take over.

“For the love of-!” Linebeck snarled, cursing, and a moment later he’d removed one of his shoes and lobbed it at the small target hanging on the wall above them.

The small leather object struck the target with a metallic clack, and with a victorious buzz, the gate slid open.

Linebeck’s jaw dropped.

“T-that actually worked?!”

“Come on!” Marin shouted, skipping forward to grasp his hand before dragging him towards the safety of the treasure room, kicking Linebeck’s discarded shoe in ahead of them.

At once, the gate returned, and the suits of armor, just now rounding the corner, vanished in puffs of black smoke.

Marin and Linebeck exchanged looks.

“Told you we could do it,” Marin taunted cheekily.

Linebeck blinked, then offered up a begrudging smirk of approval.

“Yeah. Guess you did. Way to go, Red.”

He placed a hand on her head and ruffled her hair. She felt herself go pink.

“Now… Let’s see to that treasure!”

Marin’s eyes bugged out; she’d nearly forgotten about the treasure chest! It looked old and made of wood and dented brass. They examined it critically for a moment before Linebeck turned toward her and said, “Alright, twerp. Ladies first.”

A sudden excitement rippled through her, like when opening presents on Christmas morning. The chest creaked on rusty hinges before giving way and revealing what was inside the chest.

“It’s… a bag,” she said blankly.

He flipped open the chest, frowned, and lifted out a dirty white bag pulled tight by a drawstring.

 “What the-?! A bag in a chest? Who in their right mind would…? _Flutes?!_ Who wants flutes?! Where’s the treasure?!”

“I want flutes!” Marin said, perking up.

“Fine, take ‘em,” he grumbled, shoving a white sack in her direction. She took it with delight, peeking inside and seeing a number of wooden and metal flutes inside the bag, most of them rusted, dented, and otherwise very, very old.

“Thanks, Mr. Linebeck!” Marin gushed, quickly stuffing them into her purse.

For his part, he didn’t seem much happier. He tugged his missing shoe back onto his foot with unusual venom, his face red, his scowl both annoyed and disappointed.

“Can we just go already?” he snarled, stomping towards the ladder and pulling himself up.

“W-wait!” Marin cried, scrambling after him. “Don’t forget me and the flutes!”

“I hate those flutes!”

“But what if they’re magic flutes! What if you need them to win the game?!”

“ _This is not a game show!”_

* * *

Link had just about had it.

Sure, he’d grown up with a little sister who’d driven him to his wits end on multiple occasions, but he hadn’t been responsible for babysitting Aryll when she was seven and he was nine. His lack of little-kid watching experience had ill-prepared him for the daunting task of carrying little Tatl on his back during this not-so enchanting midnight stroll through the forest.

Tatl was a nightmare; she whined, she grumbled, she complained about everything from mosquitoes to the wind, pulled painfully at his fur, and had stopped twice already to pee. The night was growing late, but Link the mighty wolf-steed continued his onward trek, careful not to trip and ever vigilant for the appearance of more monsters. Thankfully, none had appeared since finding Tatl in the clearing, but he kept his guard up, unwilling to let the girl come to any harm, regardless of how irritating she was.

Tatl, on the other hand, seemed less worried; he’d caught her nodding off once or twice as the night wore on, though she vehemently denied it, but after fighting a fruitless battle she’d eventually succumbed. She now lay atop Link, legs still straddling his haunches, face buried in the fur of his neck, the fingers of one hand tangled up in his mane while the other dangled off his side. Every once in a while she’d mumble something in her sleep and cuddle closer into his fur. He almost would have found it adorable, were it not for the fact that she was drooling on him.

The trees around him finally began thinning out, and the distant sound of traffic steadily grew closer. Just as he began questioning just how long of a trek this was going to be, he caught sight of a building in the distance and felt his heart leap. It was the Sacred Grove’s visitor’s center; he recognized it from that morning.

Thankfully, most of the land surrounding the grove belonged to the government and there was little to no signs of civilization aside from the visitor’s center and the little country lane they’d taken to get there. Odd as it was, this was the only stretch of forest within hundreds of miles, a veritable nature preserve within the country’s massive capital. He found himself thanking the Goddesses for that; he needed the isolation.

In spite of the lack of human presence, Link was still careful as he exited the woods and stepped into the nearly deserted parking lot. Only one car could be seen, presumably belonging to a security guard of some sort. His bus had pulled in here earlier that day, depositing them on the cracked, weed-infested asphalt where they’d filed into the gift shop to mess around a bit before exiting into the waiting area. The orange glare of the street lamps actually seemed to be hindering his night vision; he couldn’t say for sure, but as he neared the visitor’s center and peered through the windows, it looked like the aged security guard was slumped over on a table, snoring.

Link revealed a toothy grin. That was one less problem to worry about. Now he just needed to find a way into the grove…

Padding away from the building, he set off into the woods along the perimeter, deciding to scope the place out.

Most of the Grove was surrounded by high, decorative, cast-iron gates. It was hard to tell from his unusual vantage point, but if he had to spitball he’d say they were about eight feet high. There didn’t seem to be any barbed wire or electrified anything along the top, just traditional spiked decorations. If he were a human he could just scale it but…

Something caught his eye. Out along the perimeter of the Grove, a few hundred yards from the parking lot, still out buried in the woods, sat an old tool shed. Its wall made up part of the fence, the roof being just level with the spikes. A few feet from the fence was a tree that seemed to have snapped in half partway up its trunk; it looked like the decaying process was already well underway, but the stump was still connected to the main chunk of the tree by a few splintered bits of wood and bark. It had likely been felled by lightning, or a frost storm or some such. The key fact was that the bit that was propped up by the stump was about four feet high.

An idea formed in Link’s head. An idea that wouldn’t work for a human, but for a wolf…

He’d need to wake Tatl first, however.

Growling lightly, he jostled her with a quick shake of his shoulders. The pixie-like blonde came to with a graceful snort, jolting up quickly, wiping at her eyes and drool-covered chin with a clumsy hand while she steadied herself groggily against Link’s back with the other. Clearly still sleeping, she shot him a bleary look through reddened eyes and mumbled, “Hmm…. Wuzzat, puppy?”

A raspy bark left his mouth, his best imitation laugh, and he let his tongue wag out tauntingly. Sure, she was adorable when she was half-unconscious, but some part of him felt a great deal of vindication at waking her up. She deserved every ounce of discomfort she got for the way she’d been treating him.

Even in her fuddled state, she seemed to sense that he was somehow teasing her and scowled petulantly. She tangled her fingers back in his fur and asked, somewhat more forcefully, “…What?”

In response, he nodded towards the gates surrounding the Grove.

It took her a moment to process that they’d finally arrived at their destination, but when it finally clicked she looked around with greater interest. She let her eyes travel up to the pointed tops of the gates before searching around the woods for some odd reason. Finally, she turned back to him and asked, “Well how are we supposed to get in?”

Link barked, jerking his head towards the old brick tool shed.

She frowned, pursing her pouty lips and shook her head. “I don’t get it.”

He nodded again towards the fallen log and let out another yelp.

Sure, it was hardly cultured, but his rough attempts at communication still somehow managed to get through to her. She sent him a flat look and said, “That’s gotta be the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

He tilted his head in a ‘well if that’s how you feel’ sort of way before plodding towards the lower end of the fallen tree.

“…Hey, wait. Where are you going?”

He ignored her, stepping through the branches and placing his forelegs on the rough, splintered bark. The cuff on his foreleg jingled as he lifted himself and the girl both onto the tree with a small hop. The sudden movement nearly unseated her, but she managed to wrap her arms around his neck at the last moment and was clinging to him with a surprising amount of strength.

“H-hold on! Listen! You made your point, now get down!”

His lips quirked up in the similitude of a grin again as he began trotting up the length of the fallen tree, enjoying the nervous fear he could hear in her usually haughty voice. As he neared the end of the trunk he put on a burst of speed, going to full-on sprint, and she tightened her grip around his neck, letting out a hoarse, “No no no no no _no no no no NO NO NO NO- AAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!_ ”

Her scream could have put any actress in a horror movie to shame, but it only served to fuel the reckless energy building in his chest. As he reached the tip of the trunk, he crouched low, throwing all his strength into his haunches and, utilizing the momentum of his run, launched himself into the air.

Link had never flown before, but he knew it had to be something like this. His lithe wolf body _soared_ through the air with a power and speed that surprised him, almost undaunted by Tatl’s added weight on his back.

He landed on the leaf-strewn tiled roof of the tool shed with a heavy thump but didn't pause to think before immediately launching himself down into the Grove below.

Tatl grunted heavily as their bodies came to a stop on the gentle grass. Both were breathing heavily; Tatl from sheer terror, Link from combined exertion and exhilaration. Why had he been complaining about being a wolf again? Being a wolf was awesome! This was the most fun he’d had in a long time!

Forgetting himself for a moment, he threw his head back and let out a triumphant howl into the dark night around him. It was like his very soul was shouting defiance and freedom to the moon and back, every ounce of his excited energies symbolized in one powerful sound.

He cut off when Tatl smacked him on the back of the head.

Turning to her in surprise, he was startled to see her standing beside him, arms akimbo, and a murderous look on her pink-tinged cheeks. Jabbing one grubby finger into his wet nose, she leaned in close and hissed venomously, “Don’t you _ever_ do anything so stupid to me _ever again!_ Do you have any idea what could've happened ?! What if I fell off?! What if I died?! You and Tael, you're both so… so… _stupid!_ Agh! Always doing stupid, dangerous stuff just cause you’re boys and you think you’re invincible, well guess what, dog breath? I’m not gonna be responsible for you, so you better get that mush out of your brain and shape up if we’re gonna find my brother, ok? Are you listening to me?!”

Link blinked, taken aback at her outburst, then gave her a slobbery lick right in the face.

“Oh, _gross! Ew! Bleck! Ugh!”_ Tatl cried theatrically, wiping her face off with her sleeve and spitting on the ground. “What is wrong with you?! You’re so gross! Now my face is all sticky!”

He couldn’t help it; he let out a small chuckle that sounded like a convoluted series of rasping wheezes before nudging Tatl with his nose and motioning on toward the center of the Grove.

Still scowling, she jerked a begrudging nod and placed one hand on his back, walking along beside him. He could hear her mumbling under her breath as they walked.

“Stupid dog… thinks he’s so cool… bad breath… hollering like an idiot…”

Despite himself, he found his thoughts turning towards Aryll. He wondered how she was doing, knowing he was in jail. She was probably asleep right now or else lying awake in her bed worrying about him. That thought sobered him up quickly.

Before them in the darkness, Link could make out the ruins of the once great temple. They passed over the trenches that marked where the outer walls had been, weaved between chunks of fallen stone, and approached the massive wall Link had admired earlier, the one that separated them now from the pedestal with the sword.

Which brought Link back to his prior predicament; how was he supposed to draw the dang thing? Was he really going to bite it? Maybe Tatl had a solution…?

All thoughts vanished from his head as they rounded the wall in the darkness and found something waiting for them in front of the sword.

Link and Tatl stopped short, staring in wide-eyed disbelief. Link felt his hackles start to rise.

It was another wolf. Only where Link looked relatively normal, at least as wolves go, this one was decidedly different.

 

Hesitant, Link swung his head to the side and shot Tatl an inquiring look. She merely shook her head mutely, clearly as lost as Link was. Well great; telepathic she may be, but all-knowing she definitely was not. It was at least a comfort to know that she could see it too and he wasn’t going insane. It was disheartening how often he had to question that.

“Go talk to it.” She whispered, giving him a slight shove.

Link scowled back at her, almost to ask how he was supposed to do that before remembering that they _were_ both wolves. Maybe he could talk to other wolves? If it just started barking, would he magically understand? It worked that way in movies. Might as well give it a try.

Slowly, on ginger paws, Link approached the figure; he kept a wide stance, ready for anything, but the wolf never moved. As he neared it, circling wide so he could approach from the front, he was surprised to see Tatl following close behind. He bit back a snarl of frustration; stupid girl! If this thing attacked, how was he supposed to keep her safe?!

_“Do not worry. No harm will come to the girl in this place while I remain.”_

Link stopped short, whipping his head back toward the glowing wolf. It had finally moved, its eyes resting resolutely on Link’s. Or rather, its eye; where the right eye ought to have been was instead a grizzled scar. Link licked his chops nervously, preparing himself for a fight; no matter what this thing said, it certainly wasn’t giving off a gentle vibe.

But how had it spoken with him? They were like… thoughts. Like he’d transmitted his thoughts into Link’s mind. Could the same be done in reverse?

When it didn’t make a move to approach, Link tentatively thought towards the other wolf, _who… who are you?_

He thought he heard a derisive snort come from it. _“That is not the question, boy. The question is, who are you?”_

Why do they always flip that question back around on you?

Link hesitated, deciding how best to go around answering that before settling finally with a determined, “ _I am Link, the Hero of Time. I’ve come for my sword.”_

The golden wolf considered him for a moment. “ _You may be fated to be the Hero of Legend, it is true… but at your current power, you would be a disgrace both to the title you claim and the sacred relic you possess. You are not yet ready to wield the Blade.”_

“ _What do you mean, not ready?”_ Link asked hastily. _“The Goddess Farore told me herself that I needed to get the sword to save my friends. I possess the Triforce of Courage; I’ve defeated the King of Thieves. What more do I need to do?”_

The golden wolf shook its head. _“Heroic deeds do not a Hero make. You possess much courage, it is true… but now you must use your courage to seek out the power you lack. And find it you must; only then will you become worthy to be the Hero for whom this world despairs.”_

Link was at a loss. So everything he’d done so far was irrelevant? He had to go and prove his worth some other way? He didn’t have time for this! Ghirahim, the weird man who’d changed him to a wolf, had told him that his friends would be in danger; he needed that sword now! What other choice did he have?!

As though sensing his distress, the golden wolf spoke once more. _“If you have the courage, and the desire to save this world, then you must face me. Then will you be worthy to wield the blade.”_

_“Face you?”_

_“Yes.”_

Link hesitated, glancing towards Tatl. If he had to fight this wolf to prove he was worthy of the sword, then he’d do it. For all he knew, his friends could be in trouble right now, and he needed his body back. But Tatl could be in danger during the fight…

 _“You misunderstand,”_ the Wolf said, once again reading his thoughts. _“I shall be more clear if you agree, but for now know this; I gave my word, and as long as I remain, this child shall come to no harm. While you face me, she will be safe.”_

And somehow, Link knew he could trust him.            

"Well, what am I supposed to do?!" Tatl blurted out suddenly, catching Link by surprise once more. Apparently, Link wasn't the only wolf with whom she could communicate. Seriously, who was this girl?!

“ _You,”_ the wolf stated, and Link was shocked to hear an edge of fond amusement in his voice, _“will remain out of the way. Sleep, child. Link shall awaken you when we are done.”_

Predictably, Tatl scowled. “I don’t wanna. I’m not tired.”

Link shot her a flat look. Her face turned pink, and Link could almost see the memory of him waking her up and her wiping the drool from her chin replaying in her head. After a moment’s staring contest, she finally gave in and stormed over to a nearby tree with a huff, plopping down in front of it and resting her chin in her hands.

“Fine. I’ll wait right here. But I’m not sleeping.”

Snorting, Link turned back to the Golden Wolf.

“ _Alright. Let’s do this.”_

Without warning, the Wolf rose from its seated position and launched itself at Link, jaws wide open, poised to strike at his throat, at a speed that was almost unimaginable. Link was too startled to move; before he could do more than whine shrilly, the gold wolf’s teeth sank into his fur, and the world went white.

When his vision cleared, Link found himself lying on his face.

Moaning groggily, he pushed himself upward on his hands and knees and shook his head, blinking to clear his thoughts. It took him a second to realize that he was back in his human body.

“Whoa, what?!” he yelped excitedly, jumping to his feet and laughing in delight. Hands with five fingers, hair only on his head, clothes…!

He stopped, looking down at himself. The clothes he had on now were not what he’d had on when in the police station. He was dressed the same way he was in the dream when he’d met the Goddess Farore; odd green tunic, chainmail, floppy hat, gauntlets, boots… He felt an odd weight on his back and reached around behind him with his hands. He nearly freaked when he realized he was carrying an old-fashioned sword and shield strapped to his back.

Deciding to ignore that for the moment, Link turned around, gazing at the scene around him. He was in the Sacred Grove… only, not. Billowing clouds of white fog stretched around him as far as his eye could see, blurring his vision. What little he could see of the Grove seemed… faded, like an old black-and-white photo. He could make out a few trees, a couple fallen pillars, and the pedestal where the Blade of Evil’s Bane kept its eternal slumber, yet Tatl was nowhere to be seen. Wherever he was, there was a distinctly spiritual vibe to the place. It actually reminded him a lot of the Sacred Realm, where he’d met with the Goddess Farore. He wondered if she was anywhere nearby…

Turning his head, he was startled to see outlines of tall buildings off in the distance that shouldn't have been there. The outline of a massive castle; the remodeled Royal Castle where Hyrule's Prime Minister and other officials worked and resided. Further along, he could see what looked like the remains of a coliseum somewhere in the desert and… was that the outline of his High School?!  Footsteps echoed behind him, and he turned.

There, emerging from the mist, was a large skeletal figure wearing scraps of rusty armor. He could see what looked like bits of plant life and moss stuck in the chinks of its breastplate and the cracks in its helmet. In its hands it carried a massive rusted broadsword and a heavy round shield. Link nearly ran for it until he noticed its eyes; the sockets of the skull were both hollow, but one glowed a deep red, just like the wolf from the Grove.

“Are you…?” Link tried hesitantly.

“I am the Hero’s Shade,” the skeleton replied, in a voice that was hollow yet echoed across the vast empty expanse. “In life, I regretted not being able to pass on my secrets to a worthy successor, and as such have been given this chance to teach you. You are young, yet possess great courage. I believe the Master Sword will yield itself to you. However, in your life you lacked the chance to learn the sacred art of the Hero; Swordplay. You will need it to face the challenges that will befall you. This is why you must face me, so that I can pass down my secrets to you. Then, and only then, shall you be worthy to wield the Sword that Seals the Darkness.”

Link stared at the man in shock and felt the fear draining out of him, replaced by something more like reverenced awe.

“What… what is this place? How did I become human again?”

“This is another realm. In the real world, your body lies in slumber before the Master Sword. You will be returned before the sun rises.”

Link started. “B-but that’s just in a couple of hours! How am I supposed to learn swordplay from scratch in so short a time?”

The Hero’s Shade shook his head. “You undervalue your gifts. For you, who possess the Triforce of Courage, accomplishing any goal is not beyond your capability have you the sufficient willpower. There is more than that, however. If you truly are the reincarnation of the Hero, then your spirit already knows the sword. You need only to remember it."

“And… when we’re done, I’ll be worthy of the Master Sword?”

“When we are through, none shall be your equal with the blade.”

Link nodded, drawing the sword and nearly dropping the shield.

“Alright then. Let’s get this started.”

“Very good. The first lesson you must learn is this- The sword wields no strength unless the hand that holds it has courage. Always remember those words…”

And thus did Link’s Hero training begin.

 


	9. A Hero in the Night

When Zelda arrived at the museum, there was nobody around.

Which was odd, all things considered; wasn’t this supposedly the site of a theft only hours earlier? Shouldn’t there be police here, or at least increased security guard activity? Surely somebody ought to be here to make sure the rest of the items on display in the museum didn’t also mysteriously disappear. Yet as Zelda strode up the red brick staircase and approached the tall glass front doors, she couldn’t help but notice that she was completely and utterly alone. Well, aside from Colin.

“I don’t know if I like this, Zelda…” he muttered uncomfortably, casting nervous glances around him as she pressed her face up against the glass and peered curiously inside. “I mean… Shouldn’t we have met somebody by now?”

"Yeah…" Zelda responded off-handedly, squinting through the darkness into the shadowy atrium. She could barely make out the form of the Great Fairy fountain, but aside from her half-naked concrete form, there was nothing to be seen in the building. No Midna, no evil presence, no nothing. Only shadows.

As for what _was_ going down… She had no clue. Leave it to the goddess Nayru to telepathically warn her of danger and yet again not show her how to handle the situation. She’d never been particularly forthcoming in the past either and things had always somehow managed to turn out alright, but that didn’t make dealing with it any easier. She sometimes wished she’d been gifted with a magical walkie-talkie, or better yet, that she could just shoot Nayru a text or Snapchat on her phone whenever she had an issue.

The image of her taking a selfie with Colin in front of the museum doors with confused expressions suddenly popped into her mind.

‘Lol now wut? #soconfused, #wisdomplz, #PrincessofGettingLost’

She shook her head violently; she needed to focus.

Well, if nobody was out here, that could only mean that she had to find some way inside…

She tested the handle – locked. Of course it was. It was worth a try, though. Now, what should she do…?

“Are… you trying to get in?” Colin asked, stepping closer.

Zelda resisted the urge to roll her eyes; she’d been unnecessarily short with Colin today, and it really wasn’t any of his fault that she’d been in such a bad mood. Link standing her up, their fight, his sudden arrest, Nayru’s less-than-helpful warning… Goddesses, but her life could go from normal to total nightmare faster than Malon went through boyfriends.

“Well, if Midna and the rest are anywhere, they’d be inside.”

Shivering in the cold spring air, Zelda stepped back and examined the door, considering her options as she rubbed at her arms for heat; what had she been thinking, sneaking out with Colin and Anju and not bringing her sweater? The sleeves to her long maroon tunic cut off halfway down her forearm, but the material wasn’t very thick. Thankfully, she’d opted for her black slacks that day rather than leggings, but her clothing was far from warm. The only thing that maybe helped was the one black, fingerless glove she wore on her right hand, only the ‘fingerless’ bit took away from it considerably.

She glared at Colin out of the corner of her eye. Why was it that guys never seemed to react to the cold unless there was ice on the ground? All he had on were faded jeans and a white, three-buttoned long sleeve shirt. What, was it something in the male genetic makeup that made them naturally cold resistant? That just seemed unfair. Biology was sexist. She needed to have a word with Farore one of these days.

“Well,” Colin stated simply, “if we need to get in…”

He walked back towards the stairs and crouched down next to the decorative planters, rummaging through the short hedges for a few moments before emerging with a large rock held in his fist.

“Um, Colin, what are you…?”

In answer, he strode towards the door and hefted the rock as though he were going to pitch a baseball.

Shock and dread filled Zelda’s gut, and her inner goody-two-shoes began squawking in indignation. He was going to break the window?! But… but… That was vandalism! It was against the law! Colin would never…! But then, their friends _were_ in trouble, and desperate times called for desperate measures… But still, breaking the window?!

Before she could make up her mind over whether this was an acceptable course of action, a high, clear voice rang out from off to the side.

“Hey!”

Colin jumped and dropped the rock, looking panicked and guilty.

Zelda felt her heart leap into her throat, but when she whirled to face the unexpected witness to the would-be beginnings to Colin’s life of crime, she found herself struck speechless.

There, calmly plodding towards them, was the unmistakable figure of a child.

The kid halted a few paces away from Zelda and Colin and examined them silently. The boy, or at least that’s what she assumed he was, had on the most bizarre set of mismatched clothing Zelda had ever seen.

Two different kinds of boots adorned his feet; one thick, rubbery yellow rain boot, the other of a mottled green hiking variety, though without laces. His knobby knees were bare, the only covering for his legs being a too-small pair of super-short 80s workout shorts. By far the most hideous addition was his shirt; an overly large long-sleeved smock that was filthy and stained, the sleeves of which looked like they were originally white and extended beyond his fingertips, but the body sported an odd purple design, almost as if he were wearing a vomit-inducing paisley vest.

No part of his outfit could match the mask he was wearing in terms of oddness, however. The boy had concealed his face behind a bright yellow fox mask, complete with tall, pointed ears. His eyes were practically invisible in the darkness behind the slits in the mask that he saw through, but Zelda could still see long, purple hair pulled back behind his ears. It reminded her of Kafei, and she felt her heart reach out to the poor boy; he was obviously homeless, out here all alone in the cold in those ill-fitting, filthy clothes…

She didn’t bother to ask _why_ there was a homeless child loitering around the outside of the museum. Why were there homeless children anywhere? What mattered wasn’t how he’d come to be there, but what she could do to help him.

Zelda knelt down and adopted her warmest, most approachable tone.

“Hey there!” she called out with her brightest smile. “What are you doing out here all by yourself?”

The boy cocked his head to the side as though he didn’t understand.

“What are you two doing?” he asked.

Zelda and Colin exchanged looks. “Just… looking for some friends of ours. You didn’t happen to see anybody around here tonight, did you?”

For a moment, Zelda thought she’d said the wrong thing. It was impossible to read his face behind that mask, but he was silent for a moment, considering the two teens before him.

Just when she thought she was going to have to either repeat herself or change the subject, he spoke.

“Are you trying to get into the museum?”

“Yes,” said Colin quickly, stepping closer. Not wanting to scare the boy off, Zelda shot him a warning look but he waved her down. “Why? Do you know a way in?”

The boy shook his head and mumbled something to himself that Zelda couldn’t make out. “Yeah, I know a way in. Follow me.”

Without waiting to see if they’d obey, the boy turned and dashed back the way he came.

Zelda blinked in surprise, then hastily clambered to her feet and sprinted off after him, Colin right behind her.

Perhaps she ought to have been suspicious as to how, at the exact moment they arrived outside the museum and were searching for an entrance, a potential path appears before them in the guise of a mysterious stranger. However, oddities like this were the norm for Zelda. It seemed totally likely that this little boy was telling the truth; after all, Nayru wouldn’t have ordered her here if her task was impossible. At least, that was what she was telling herself.

The boy followed the path that ran along the outer wall of the museum, his mismatched shoes pitter-pattering on the shadowed brick sidewalk. With every other step, his rubber shoe squelched, as though shouting at them to hurry.

The Museum of National History was a truly massive building, even dwarfing the official state buildings around it. However, Castleton, like most large cities, was lacking in adequate space for real estate. The buildings around were uncomfortably close to each other, with claustrophobic alleyways in between.

Normally, Zelda would have avoided such places like the filthy, disease-ridden rat warrens she knew them to be. Unfortunately for her, it was just such an alleyway between the museum and some tall building she thought was a law firm that the boy led them to.

She hesitated at the mouth of the alley. Everything she'd ever seen in horror movies and television crime dramas told her that teenage girls did not belong in dark alleys in the middle of the night, particularly when visiting the big city. Just peeking inside had her shuddering; mysterious puddles, piles of trash, graffiti… There was an eighty-six percent chance of her being raped and murdered if she entered this alley… At least, if the TV was anything to go by.

Still… Her friends were in danger and the world needed her help. Furthermore, that little boy had run in without any problems. If he could do it, why couldn’t she?

Colin, who’d leaned up against the wall beside her, panting, muttered softly, “Zelda, I don’t think it’s such a good idea to-“

Swallowing back her nerves, she shot back, “We don’t have a choice, Colin.”

Ignoring his reluctant groan, she ran into the darkness, grateful to hear his footsteps splashing in the puddles just behind her.

Thankfully, she didn’t have to run far. A couple dozen feet in she found the boy, waiting patiently in front of a large, slimy dumpster.

“Hey, what’s the deal?” she demanded, putting her hands on her hips and scowling down at him. He better not have been messing with them; she ran into an alleyway for this kid! An alleyway! “I thought you had a way in!”

“I do, I do!” the boy said hastily, making placating gestures with his hands. “My friend can get you in. He lives here, behind the dumpster.”

“He lives _where_?” Colin asked, sounding horrified.

"Behind the dumpster," the boy repeated, oblivious to Colin's distress. "I just can't move it by myself; I'm not strong enough. So…"

“Aw man, are you kidding me?” Colin shot Zelda an imploring look, but she shook her head despondently. Colin sighed.

“Alright kid, let’s do this.”

Together, the three of them braced their hands against the greasy, rusted side of the dumpster and began pushing with all their might. Flies and the stench of rotting refuse assaulted her, nearly making Zelda gag. Honestly, how did dumpsters like this get to be so disgusting? It was between a museum and a lawyer’s office; what could either of those institutions put inside that could possibly be so gross?

The wheels on the bottom of the dumpster were rusty and squealed in protest, but thankfully the hulking garbage receptacle gave way without too much strain. After a few moments of grunting and heaving, they managed to slide it back a few feet, revealing a few oily sheets of cardboard stacked up against the wall.

“Alright, we’re there. Look!”

The boy stepped forward and slid the cardboard to the side, revealing a large hole in the side of the museum into which the boy hastily ducked.

“Come on! This way!”

Zelda and Colin exchanged looks again.

“Uh-uh. No way. Zelda, this is crazy. This is probably where drug deals and gang initiation pranks go down. We go in there, and if the only thing we get is tetanus, it’ll be a miracle.”

“Colin.”

They stared at each other in silence, arguing through straight eye contact for a moment before Zelda’s indomitable will won out. Slumping his shoulders in defeat, Colin sighed and gestured towards the hole in the wall.

“Fine, fine… Ladies first.”

Stooping low, Zelda ducked into the crevice in the wall and began her bizarre, perilous journey. In reality, it can’t have been more than a few feet, but as narrow, dark, and mysteriously dripping as the passageway was, those few feet lasted for an eternity.

Finally, after ducking a support beam and passing through a curtain made out a tattered bed sheet, the space opened up and Zelda found herself stumbling into the strangest living room she’d ever been in.

A dusty light bulb hung from a cord that extended somewhere into the darkness above them, casting a pallid light over the scene. Drapes and sheets hung from rusted nails and broken beams to create a sort of impoverished gypsy feel. Plastic buckets and broken furniture had apparently been dragged into the cramped living space in an attempt to make it feel cozier. A mildewed couch sat collapsed against the outer wall and a handful of broken or legless stools and chairs formed a ring around a scratched table top (just the table top), nestled onto a bad 60s shag carpet in the middle of the floor.

The stench of alcohol, body odor, and urine assaulted her nose instantly, making her eyes water. Oh, goddesses… Where on earth had she found herself now?

One of the curtains across from her parted, and in shuffled the mask-wearing boy, followed by the last person Zelda had ever expected to see again.

"Well hello, friends!" cried the bespandexed homeless man she'd met that morning, clapping his hands together in delight. "Tingle is so very happy to see you! Welcome to Tingle's home!"

“Oh Din…” Colin moaned behind her.

"Come, come, you must sit!" Tingle urged emphatically, motioning towards the broken stools as he smoothed down his bangs that poked out of his neon green headpiece. "The Keaton boy has told me all about you. You all are trying to enter the museum, yes?"

“Er… yes, Mr. Tingle, we…” Zelda tried, but couldn’t get the words out of her mouth. The situation was just too bizarre for her to wrap her head around. Tingle lived here? Tingle, the crazy homeless man who’d glomped her boyfriend that morning and had been dragged away by the police? How on earth had he gotten away?

And… what about those children he’d been chasing? The ones who were reported missing?

Her eyes darted to the child in the mask who was standing in the corner and then back to Tingle. Something like dread crept into her heart. If he was keeping company with this child, then…?

“Oh, Tingle is so delighted to have guests. It is not very often that others come to visit Tingle. No, no, not very often at all. But you must stay and eat with Tingle! Tingle will make you dinner!”

“O-oh, no! Uh, that’s not necessary, Tingle, we’ve, uh… We just ate, actually.” Zelda fumbled quickly, her face turning grey at the thought of eating whatever slop was concocted by this overgrown man-child. “Actually, Tingle, I have a question for you…”

“For me?” Tingle replied, looking shocked. His voice was unnaturally high for a man his age, particularly for one with such a large gut threatening to burst from his spandex suit and tatty red swim trunks. It might have even been comical were she not terrified for her life.

“Yes. Do you… know anything about those little kids you met this morning? The ones who went missing earlier tonight?”

Colin tensed behind her, and this time Zelda agreed with his nervousness; confronting a suspected kidnapper of his crimes in his house wasn’t the brightest of ideas she’d come up with, but the words had tumbled out of her mouth before she had time to think it over properly. The stench of this hovel was fuddling her mind.

“Children?” Tingle asked, cocking his head to the side in confusion.

Zelda licked her lips nervously, ready to bolt. “Uh… You know, the, uh… The fairies?”

She’d expected her words to have an effect on him. She’d expected anger, or fear, or denial, or attack. Or at the very least, for him to grow ecstatic like he had that morning and begin raving again.

She hadn’t expected his mouth to gape open in shock, nor the words that came out of his mouth.

“What?! Princess says the fairies went missing?”

Zelda felt like she’d been punched in the stomach.

“What… What did you call me?”

There was a twinge on the back of her right hand, but she stopped herself from hiding it behind her back. The boy in the mask was staring at her, silent.

“But… But… Tingle does not know! Tingle would never hurt fairies! Tingle loves fairies! Princess does not know this, but Tingle is a fairy too! Tingle merely wanted to help the fairies! They were in danger!”

Zelda’s mind was reeling. This man was insane. Clearly, obviously, no doubt in her mind or in anybody’s who’d ever seen him. And yet… he called her Princess. Could he…? Was it possible…?

“Listen, Tingle,” Colin said curtly, placing a comforting hand on Zelda’s shoulder. “We know you just wanted to help the… fairies… But now, we need some help too. Can you get us into the museum?”

Colin hadn’t noticed the ‘Princess’ line. He probably thought it was more madness on Tingle’s part. Was it? It seemed… unlikely. Still, Colin seemed ready to get going, and Zelda was only too ready to oblige.

“Of course!” Tingle cried, going from depressed to ecstatic in an instant. “Tingle uses this secret passage to study about fairies! New friends can use it too! Just follow the tunnel; it leads straight to the museum’s storage room. But you must be careful not to get caught!”

“Perfect. Thanks, Tingle,” Colin said quickly, flashing the bizarre man a tight smile and giving Zelda a short push.

“Come on, let’s get out of here…” he muttered hastily in her ear.

“Wait! Before you go, Tingle has a present for you!”

“Oh, no. Tingle, you’ve done enough, really-“

Colin's protests were cut short as Tingle, having poked his head around the curtain with his butt sticking up into the air to everyone's general disgust, emerged from his backroom clutching something in his hands.

“For you! Tingle gives you his most prized possession. But be careful; there is darkness ahead,” he intoned gravely, pressing the object into Zelda’s hands.

 

“Great. Thanks. We’ll be going now,” Colin pressed, shoving Zelda forward.

With one last goodbye from the good-natured if smelly vagabond, the duo brushed back the sheet and entered a tunnel, the masked boy following close behind.

The tunnel was a bit longer than the one that led from the dumpster but thankfully required less bending over. Before she knew it, the three companions were stumbling out into a darkly lit storage room from behind a loose wall panel.

“Oh gods,” Colin grumbled, sniffing at his sleeve and wrinkling his nose. “We reek.”

“At least we’re in now,” Zelda replied. “Maybe we should split up and…”

She trailed off. A voice could be heard echoing from the other end of the storage room. It was a man’s voice, high and sharp. A second voice answered, even higher and distinctly childish.

“Who is that?” Colin mouthed. “Security guards?”

“I don’t know!” Zelda answered, irritated. What, was she supposed to know everything? “Let’s go check it out!”

Motioning to the masked boy to keep low, Zelda quietly picked her way closer to the sound of the two voices, ducking behind stacks of crates and dollies, careful not to trip over anything in the darkness.

The storage room was large, probably larger than the gymnasium back at Ordon High. Most of it was occupied by rows of large shelves stocked to the brim with random odds and ends. As they crept through the corridors of cabinets, Zelda noticed a light coming from the far end of the room, presumably where the two voices were meeting.

Ducking low behind a statue of a mermaid, Zelda poked her head around to try and catch a glimpse of the two figures talking in the corner.

When she did, she felt her eyebrows quirk upwards in disbelief.

And she thought Tingle dressed weird…

The first person was a taller man wearing white spandex with diamond cutouts and a large red cape. He was lounging against a crate, pale white hair obscuring half of his face as he let out a rich, effeminate laugh.

The second was a child, much like the one crouched down beside her. He had on a black shirt and shorts, but more distracting was the fact that he was also wearing a mask. She recognized this one from the exhibit on Termina in the museum. It was Majora’s Mask… But how on earth had a child gotten a hold of it? And why was he wearing it?

“…will soon come to pass,” the effeminate man was saying idly, examining his nails. “I can feel him approaching; the moment will be upon us soon. All we have to do until then is entertain our little guests long enough until they-“

He stiffened, straightening up, and licked his lips.

“…Well, well, well, so we’ve finally arrived, have we?”

Dread filled Zelda’s chest, but before she could shout out for her accomplices to run, it was too late.

The man waved his hand and the mermaid statue flew across the room, landing with a crash on the floor and shattering into pieces. Colin cried out in shock, scrambling away from the scene with wild eyes, but the boy with the mask stood firm, saying nothing but looking ready for a fight.

Zelda locked eyes with the white-haired man and felt something uneasy stir in her chest, something not too different from recognition.

Did she… know this person?

The man flashed a cruel smile, a rich chuckle echoing from his throat.

“Good evening, Your Grace. One down, two to go. I leave them in your capable hands, Majora.”

The masked boy turned his face on them, and the room went dark. The last thing she heard before fading into the blackness was cackling laughter.

* * *

When Aryll had first awoken alone in the foggy woods, she'd have given anything to have somebody there alongside her. The terrifying isolation in the dark had only encouraged the memories she'd been fighting for so long to repress, and somewhere in the bottom of her heart, she'd been crying out for somebody, anybody, to come and save her.

Now that it had happened, however, she found herself mutinously wishing she were alone again.

Don’t misunderstand; she was grateful that someone had come along and rescued her from those strange goblin things that had had her cornered. She just wished it wasn’t Ralph who’d done the rescuing.

He, however, had been ecstatic to find her in desperate need of his ‘heroic endeavors’, and had yet to let up about it. Honestly, of all the people in the entire world who could have been her savior, he was the last person she’d wanted to see entering that clearing. Well, second to last.

A breeze passed through the trees, rustling the leaves overhead and chilling her. Reflexively, she drew her arms close and tried to stop herself from shivering, angling the lantern awkwardly so as not to burn her arm. Well, that's what she gets for wearing that outfit…

 

She felt something warm and soft being draped around her shoulders.

“It wouldn’t do for my lady to catch a cold-” Ralph began in what she was sure he thought was a seductive murmur before her elbow to the diaphragm cut him off with an injured wheeze.

“Cut it out, Ralph,” Aryll bit out menacingly, shrugging off his odd blue jacket and hurling it at his face.

“I… but… I was simply trying to-!”

“Oh, I know full well what you were trying, bucko,” she sneered, shooting him a venomous glare and adjusting her grip on the old brass telescope she held clutched in her fist. She’d picked it up off the ground after Ralph had rescued her from the goblin things earlier; it wasn’t much in the ways of a weapon, but she could at least get a couple good whacks out of it. That, or she supposed she’d just have to rely on Ralph to protect her.

Goddesses, but something about that thought caused bile to rise in her throat. Rely on Ralph?! She’d rather rely on Groose! Ralph was a brainless, arrogant, chauvinistic flirt with delusions of grandeur. Multiple times she’d been forced to ask herself if he was on some sort of medication; why else would he act the way he did? Or talk the way he talked? He made the bizarre and outlandish look normal by comparison, and by some kooky twist of fate, he’d decided he’d fallen madly in love with her.

She wondered sometimes if his sudden infatuation had something to do with the shooting. She knew that Ralph had perpetuated his long-standing, one-sided rivalry with her brother Link for years now, though Link had never seemed to give him the time of day. It must have grated on him during the shooting how Link had been the one to save the day despite Ralph always claiming that he was the hero. Furthermore, she’d heard how he’d been all but shown up by Colin, her ex-boyfriend, who’d both saved his life (twice) and daringly rescued the Chief of Police (his father) after Ralph had failed to do so.

A hot and uncomfortable feeling bubbled up in her chest at the thought of Colin Smith, but she shoved it back down.

The biggest thing Link and Colin had in common was her. There was a dark, bitter part of herself that was beginning to suspect that most of Ralph’s infatuation with her stemmed from that fact, as if she was some sort of trophy he could wrestle away from the two of them to somehow declare superiority.

If that’s how he saw this playing out, he had another thing coming.

However, that didn’t erase the fact that at the moment she was all but defenseless, and of the two of them, only Ralph had a weapon.

He’d come marching into the clearing after rescuing her, all strut and flutter, flicking back his stupid hair and commenting on how fortuitous it was that he’d been in the area and how the fates must have something glorious planned for their futures. She’d sort of been in shock, not thinking straight, and had made the mistake of thanking him. Had she known how much simple words of gratitude were going to inflate that already overly-large head of his, she’d have stayed quiet.

He’d shown her the tool he’d used to save her, though, and that at least was interesting. He’d apparently woken up in a clearing much like she had and heard the same voice that delivered the same axiom. However, where she had been given a lantern, he’d merely awoken with the tool he now carried sitting beside him.

It looked like a spring-loaded spike, to be honest – a curved metal handle attached to a metal cylinder with a spike not much different than a large arrowhead on the top. When he pressed a button on the inside near the handle, it released a mechanism inside that caused the spring-loaded device to fire. The spike shot forward, with a chain attached to it, and after traveling so many feet retracted automatically.

At first, they’d thought it was some sort of primitive gun, but had discovered that it was useful for retrieving distant objects and could even be used to pull oneself up to distant places, assuming you could find purchase for the spike. It was the sort of tool Batman would use, if a little archaic. Neither of them knew why he’d woken up next to it.

But that had pretty much summed up their midnight trek through the woods up until now. Ralph making comments about his bravery and peerless heroics, occasionally trying to slip an arm around her to ‘keep her warm’, and Aryll clenching her jaw and trying not to maul him.

As if she wasn’t operating under enough stress as it was. All she wanted was to find the rest of their friends and get out of these woods, creepy-voice boy’s ‘test’ or no.

If there was any benefit to Ralph’s presence, however, it was that Aryll’s consistent, all-consuming irritation was strong enough to distract her from the terror that had threatened to tear her apart when she’d realized she was alone in the woods after dark. It was hardly a comforting feeling, but anything was better than hysteria.

Which is why, when they heard the tell-tale patter of footsteps close by, Aryll had to muster up every ounce of self-control to prevent herself from screaming.

Heart thundering in her chest, she seized Ralph by the sleeve and yanked him into a dense thicket, crouching low to the ground and shuttering the lantern, trusting the shadows to hide them.

“Oh-ho!” Ralph muttered salaciously, waggling his eyebrows at Aryll. “So this is how you want to play it, eh? I knew you were a fox, Aryll, but I never expected-“

Aryll slapped her hand over Ralph’s mouth with perhaps a bit more force than was strictly necessary.

“Ralph. Shut up. Now,” she hissed, shooting him the death glare she’d picked up from Midna before peering out into the darkness around them. “Something’s coming…”

There was complete silence for a moment and all Aryll could hear was the frantic pounding of her heart as the darkness around her seemed to intensify. She was terrified; for better or worse, she was trapped in the dark once again with no way of knowing how she was supposed to survive. At least she wasn’t alone anymore… but she didn’t want Ralph. She wanted Link. She needed Link. Now that Grandpa was gone, he was her protector. Only now that he was in jail… Who was going to keep her safe?

As though in answer to her thoughts, the fog parted in the clearing on the opposite side of the thicket, allowing the moon and stars to illuminate their surroundings for a brief moment.

Aryll scooted closer to the branches that hid them, carefully pushing them aside in the hopes that a brief glimpse of a familiar constellation might calm her nerves with the memories of her Grandfather. What she saw instead turned her blood to ice.

There, in the clearing, shambling around in aimless circles, were a dozen or so of the most terrifying things she’d ever seen. The pygmy goblins that had attacked her before had done little to prepare her for what she was seeing now.

They were skeletons. Adult sized with bleach-white bones and glowing red eyes, they ambled in a listless manner as though unaware of their surroundings. They wore no clothing and carried no weapons; just human skeletons, somehow reanimated, stalking the night.

Ever since bumping into the odd monster creatures that had chased her through the woods, Aryll had been doing a bang-up job of repressing her fear. It was something she was terribly good at; was there some aspect of her life that was particularly troublesome? Easy solution: just don’t think about it.

Parents and grandfather taken away from you at a young age? Don’t think about it.

Boyfriend betrays your trust and aids in a school shooting that results in the deaths of dozens of your innocent peers in order to keep you safe? Don’t think about it.

Monsters coming alive and chasing you through the woods? Don’t think about it.

Saria had once told her that traumatic experiences you kept bottled inside had a nasty way of coming back when you least expected it, but Aryll had brushed her friend off, not wanting to acknowledge it. It was only now, as she stared out into the moonlit clearing at her nightmare’s army, terror once more threatening to consume her, that she realized what a fool she’d been.

She would never survive this night. She’d never make it back to her friends. She’d never be able to apologize to Saria and Malon for not being there for them after the shooting; for bundling herself up in her own ball of pain and fear and pretending like everything was ok. She should have opened herself up to her friends, learned to trust again by helping them and letting them help her. Maybe then she wouldn’t feel so petrified. Maybe then she wouldn’t feel so alone.

It was then, as she began her freefall into her own twisted inner world, that something caught her eye.

There, in the middle of the clearing, amidst what looked like a pile of sticks and rocks, sat a pile of discarded weapons.

The thought of ‘why’ a couple rusted swords and axes would be lying in a pile in the middle of the skeleton-infested clearing didn’t cross her mind; why was any of this happening? Why had Ralph woken up beside the steam-punk version of James Bond’s missing grapple hook? If she stopped to consider every bizarre thing that had happened that night, she’d still be standing in that first clearing she’d woken up in. And she’d probably be dead.

Her eyes focused on one of the weapons and she felt her gut lurch; she recognized that one from the museum that morning. It was that massive skull-shaped hammer that her friends had teased her about when she’d told them it was adorable. Seeing it here, in the middle of her nightmare, gave her an idea… A horrible, terrible, stupid idea…

Ralph had scooted up next to her, but for once his bravado seemed to have failed him. He stared out into the darkness, wide green eyes unfocused and sweat beading up on his brow. Apparently, it _was_ possible to shut the boy up; too bad she couldn’t feel any joy at the moment.

Licking his lips hesitantly, he whispered, “Ah… Ok, Aryll, I see we have… visitors… Let us adjourn to the opposite side of this bramble and… quietly… begin making our way around these, ah… things.”

Aryll ignored him. Her head was racing almost as fast as her heart as she stared at the hammer out in the distance. This was a bad idea. A bad, bad idea… but she was tired of being afraid, tired of feeling helpless, and most of all, she was angry. Angry at herself, angry at her own weakness, angry at the world for being so unfair, and she needed some way to _fight back_.

She glanced up at the stars and felt her grandpa’s words washing over her. _Get your ninny-muggin head out of the clouds and get to work!_

She glanced down at her lime green running shoes Link had given her. The nightmare at hand may have her immediate attention, but her brother still needed her help. And it’s not like she was useless; she’d discovered that night all the time and attention she’d devoted to track had its benefits. She was fast. Maybe the fastest in the school. If she hurried, she could do this.

Right?

“Now, Aryll, ladies first. I’ll follow behind and cover you-“

“No.”

Ralph blinked, staring at her. “Excuse me?”

“No, Ralph. We’re not running away. Not this time.”

“Um…?” he offered, stumped. At any other time, Aryll would have been thrilled to know that the ginger teen’s eloquence was not inexhaustible. “Aryll, I do not think you understand what I’m trying to say here.”

“No, I gotcha,” she replied, taking a few deep breaths to calm her heart and clear her head, setting the lantern and telescope down on the ground beside her; she’d need free hands. “You want us to sneak around them and hope they don’t catch us and tear us apart. I have a better idea.”

“You… You do?” Ralph replied, casting her a hopeful look.

“Yup. I run in there, grab us some weapons, and then run back.” After all, how fast could a skeleton move anyway? They didn’t have Aryll’s well-toned calves. Judging by the way they were shuffling about, they couldn’t hope to match her speed. She had this race in the bag.

Ralph, however, didn’t seem as confident.

“Are you mad?!” he hissed, crossing his arms and shooting her a stern look as she positioned herself as though waiting for the hundred-meter dash. “Running out into the middle of… of… that?! This is no place for a woman! You stay here, and - and I’ll go-“

"Too late!" Aryll cried, cutting Ralph off and emerging from the thicket at a dead sprint.

The skeletons all turned to look at her simultaneously, red eyes zeroing in like laser sights, and as one they all began shuffling after her. Aryll’s heart was galloping in her chest, but over the panic and terror emerged a new emotion: elation. Running through the darkness on this solo suicide mission brought about a sudden surge of freedom, clearly aided by adrenaline, the kind she hadn’t experienced in a long, long time.

The moonlight, miraculously, stayed strong, as though her grandfather was urging her on, and she was able to see well enough to dodge any fallen branches or divots in the ground that might have otherwise tripped her up. The skeletons moved faster than she’d anticipated, but not nearly as fast as her. She blew through them as if they were nothing, quickly approaching her destination, and something tore itself from her chest; a wild, crazed, euphoric giggle.

She was alive. She was free. And this darkness wasn’t going to get the best of her. Not this time.

Something caught her attention as she neared the pile. What she’d previously thought were sticks and rocks she now realized were bleached white, not unlike the monsters who were chasing her, and mixed in with the weapons, of which she could see there were four, were a few mismatched bits of rusted armor.

White sticks… rusted armor…

Five steps from the pile, it happened. There was a gust of air and the pile began to rustle. Aryll tried to stop, but at the speed she was running, her attempted skid resulted in her tumbling to the ground in front of the pile. She tried to scramble to her feet, but not before it happened; with a dull clatter, the sticks and weapons all swirled into the air, aligning themselves almost robotically into the form of a monstrous, hulking, four-armed skeletal behemoth who bore down on her with all the terror of a starved grizzly.

 

Aryll didn’t think she’d ever moved so quickly in her life. She shot to her feet like a bullet and all but flew across the ground, a silent scream tearing through her head as she gasped for breath, fleeing for her life.

She intended to head back towards Ralph in the thicket, only to find all the other skeletons she’d been avoiding had closed in on her, blocking her exit. She scrambled to the right where there were fewer obstacles, but she could hear the heavy, clattering footfalls of the behemoth charging behind her, grunting like a boar, and she willed herself to move faster.

One of the skeletons broke off from the pack, showing a remarkable and unfortunate amount of foresight, aiming to head her off. Aryll panicked, not sure what to do, when a sudden glint of silver came flashing out of the darkness. Ralph’s strange pointy weapon slammed into the creature’s skull, ripping its head off its body.

A sudden burst of gratitude surged through her. Ralph was helping! Farore, but she could _kiss_ him! …Well, maybe not. But another ‘thank you’ could be on its way.

The now-beheaded skeleton stumbled but continued shuffling forward, as though losing its head was only a minor inconvenience. Aryll felt vomit rise up in her throat. Ralph's help wasn't going to do much here after all. She was alone.

The skeleton moved as though to slash at her but she narrowly dodged it, side-stepping the undead warrior and veering off towards the edge of the clearing, hoping she could lose them in the woods. Unfortunately, with her attention on her pursuers, her toe caught on a root and she stumbled. She managed to keep her footing, at least until the massive skeleton behind her slammed into her and sent her sprawling to the floor.

 

A low, guttural chuckle emanated from behind her, and her limbs turned to jelly.

Slowly, Aryll turned around and found herself cowering on the ground before the massive, four-armed skeleton and his sea of comrades. The eerie light in his eyes and sardonic smile on his skinless face seemed intensified under the moonlight. The fog was swirling in again, obscuring everything around her, and she felt a whimper escape her throat.

The skeletal warrior lifted the sword high over its head, and the others around it began chattering excitedly.

A vacant thought skittered across Aryll’s mind. Well then. Death by skeleton it was. At least she could say she tried, that she hadn’t spent her last moments cowering in the darkness. Grandpa would be proud. She missed him. And she’d finally be able to see her parents again…

A flash of silver broke through the darkness, colliding with one of the creature’s arms. There was a creak as the chain tugged, fighting against the skeleton’s supernatural strength, until with a snap the hook came loose, tearing with it a chunk of the monster’s humerus. The rest of the arm fell to the floor, including the weapon it had been holding, the hammer.

Partial dismemberment must be fairly alarming for just about anybody, even for skeletons with an excess of limbs. Momentarily distracted, the now three-armed skeleton warrior turned its head and glared out into the darkness where she knew Ralph was hiding, his angry bellow rich in defiance and the promise of swift retribution. By the time he turned his attention back to Aryll, it was too late.

Seeing the hammer on the ground, Aryll darted forward, grasped it by its long bamboo handle and gave it a fitful tug, one foot on the monster's arm, the other kneeling below her to support her weight. With a snap, the fingers broke and the hammer was in her hands.

Despite its size, it was deceptively light. When the monster’s eyes fell on her, she almost thought she saw surprise in its face, if skeletons could be said to display emotions. He quickly raised his sword to skewer her, but Aryll was faster.

Summoning months of softball practice, Aryll closed her eyes and swung the hammer like a bat, pouring every ounce of fear and anger into her swing.

The handle bent slightly as she swung, displaying unexpected flexibility, and for a moment she worried that she lacked sufficient strength to do any real damage.

Her worries evaporated the moment the skull-pattern hammerhead connected with the skeleton's torso. In spite of the awkwardness of the swing, the strange lightness of the hammer, and her less-than-impressive upper body strength, the once-proud skeletal warrior before her exploded like a dusty piñata, sending bits of rib and spinal vertebrae spinning throughout the clearing, and what was left of the monster collapsed in a heap before her.

The clearing was silent. Aryll stared at the hammer in shock. The skeletons stared at Aryll. Somewhere in the darkness, Ralph stared at them all. Nobody made a sound.

Slowly, Aryll lifted her gaze from off the weapon and made eye contact with one of the skeletons. A crooked grin split across her face.

As one, the skeletons turned and started hastily scrambling away.

Later on, she would reflect that nothing is quite as cathartic as wanton destruction. It was as if with every blow of her mighty hammer, a little bit of her repressed tension and fear leaked out of her.

Something surged within her, a strange sort of power, and part of her just knew that if Sheik had been present he’d offer to officially change her name to Xena, Warrior Princess. She swung the hammer to the left, flexible handle bending until with a _WHAM!_ , three skeletons were sent flying in pieces across the clearing. She quickly turned and planted her feet, hefting the hammer high over her head and driving it down atop the next skeleton, leaving only a pile of dust on the floor where the creature had once stood.

The hammer seemed to strike with a force completely disproportional to the strength she used to swing it. Normally such a thing would be impossible, and yet… She was fighting off a horde of the undead all on her own. Could the hammer be magic? Was magic real? Was that the explanation for these monsters?

…Did it really matter?

A handful of the skeletons managed to escape her wrath and vanish into the trees. She set off to follow them, only to stop when she noticed the decapitated head of the four-armed skeleton staring up at her balefully from a patch of grass near the edge of the clearing. She stalked up to it, hammer slung carelessly over her shoulder, flashed a sweet smile, and then drove the hammer into the ground.

The skull was no more.

The clearing was silent, the fog rolling in and once again obscuring the night sky. Panting slightly, Aryll rested the hammer on the ground, leaning against the pole at first until remembering that it bent. Her adrenaline was already fading away, and she felt exhaustion starting to wash over her. That was quite the workout she’d just had. She wondered what Coach Nabooru would say if she could see her now…

Something rustled in the bushes and she whirled around, bringing the hammer up to bare before recognizing Ralph’s flaming red hair.

“Goddesses, you scared me!” she laughed breathily, bending over and resting her hands on her knees.

Uncharacteristically, Ralph said nothing. He approached her with an awkwardness that was nearly palpable, his footsteps shuffling in that same sort of nervous apprehension that a sixth grader has on his first day of middle school. Plus, there was something odd about the way he was looking at her. It took her a moment to realize what it was – uncertainty mixed with… awe?

Finally, after a few false starts and a couple gruff swallows, he managed to stammer, "W-well, uh… that was… very well handled. I could see you had the situation well under control there, so I… elected to let you finish up. I know how very worked up you can get when people interfere without your permission, and, um…"

Aryll grinned broadly, and Ralph drew back. “Right. Well, thanks for the help anyway, Ralph. I couldn’t have done that if it weren’t for you.”

He blinked in surprise, then seemed to relax a little. “Right. Of course! ‘Twas I, after all, who struck the beast’s arm and allowed you your chance at victory! Never fear, Aryll! Your hero is ever at your side to assist you!”

Aryll rolled her eyes, but the smile didn’t leave her face. At least Ralph was back to normal. Some things never changed…

“Now, if you’ll just hand over that hammer, we’ll be on our-“

“What?!” she blurted out, hugging the pole close to her torso protectively and casting Ralph a wild look. “No! This is my hammer! I won it fair and square! Look, it even has a cute little skull on it!”

“But Aryll,” Ralph said bracingly, shooting her a compassionate look, “a war hammer is clearly the sort of weapon for a large, strong male. I am your protector! You needn’t worry about the fighting, a delicate flower like yourself! Just leave it all to ol’ Ralph, eh?”

Aryll grit her teeth and snarled, and Ralph quickly retracted the hand he’d extended, looking terrified that she might bite it.

"Of the two of us," she snapped, "I seem to be the one doing the most ‘protecting'. If you want a real weapon, go find one of its swords, or maybe its ax. The hammer is mine. End of discussion."

Despite the fact that she’d spent the better part of the last year verbally putting Ralph in his place, he still looked surprised every time it happened. You’d think the poor guy would get a clue, but he still slunk away like a dejected puppy.

Shaking her head, Aryll headed back towards the hedge to reclaim her lantern and telescope. She gave the lantern to Ralph to help him look for the swords but kept the telescope. An idea had struck her when she'd picked it back up.

Leaving the hammer leaning against a tree, Aryll bit the narrow end of the telescope between her teeth and quickly began scaling. It had been years since she last climbed a tree, but thankfully she was in top physical shape. Being short didn’t much help when trying to reach distant branches, but her light weight made her worry less about breaking a branch and falling to her death.

It was tough work, but in a couple of minutes, she'd scaled to a decent height and had a better view of the forest now that the trees and fog were out of the way.

"What are you doing up there?" Ralph called from down below, and Aryll glanced down to see he had a rusted sword held in one hand and the lantern held up in the other. Presumably, his spikey-chainy thing was in one of his pockets.

“Looking!” she called back, hoisting herself onto the tallest branch with a grunt.

“But it’s dark!” he called back. “What on earth do you hope to see in the middle of the night?!”

“I don’t know!” she yelled back, pulling out the telescope and peering through it.

She was met with darkness.

“Stop messing around!” Ralph hollered, sounding impatient. “You’re wasting time! What if more of those monsters return? You’ve left your blessed hammer down here with me!”

Aryll didn’t answer. Slowly, she turned her telescope around as she examined the horizon. There had to be something… Someplace nearby… A cabin, or a ranger’s station, or…

Her breath caught. There, in the distance, was the unmistakable flicker of torchlight.

There was a building.

 


	10. Apocalypse Wow

The phrase ‘the silence was oppressive' had never really made as much sense to Colin as it did at that moment.

Eyes clamped shut, arms thrown protectively over his head, he remained in his position half-kneeling, half-crouching upon the cold, hard floor, waiting for the strange white-haired man to hurl another statue in his direction or something equally terrifying, and yet… everything around him had grown deathly quiet. There was no sound. Why was there no sound?

Whole body tensed and ready for anything, Colin slowly lowered his arms and peeked one eye open.

Warm light flooded his vision, faint and yellow-brown through the multiple shards of the massive stained-glass window that stood before him. He felt his jaw drop involuntarily; never in his life had he ever laid eyes upon something so massive and ornately beautiful. Or so _ancient_.

Eight feet wide and nearly three stories tall, something about the way the window looked, myriad shards of brown, yellow, and red glass glued to a massive wooden frame, gave the impression of great age. They weren’t placed in any particular pattern either, but rather the disharmonious arrangement seemed intentionally set to catch the eye and change the color of the natural sunlight and enhance its beauty. It was an impressive sight, one he doubted he’d ever forget as long as he lived… and yet, he was almost certain there was no window in the museum’s storage room.

Turning on the spot, Colin felt fear slowly beginning to rise in his chest. He wasn’t in the storage room. Dirty cement floors had been replaced with stoic marble slabs, grungy walls were now smooth white stone, endless shelves of odd curios had been replaced with the occasional decorative vase lining the walls. There looked to be a podium against the wall to his left with two ugly old statues, and on the far side of the room was a doorway, maybe half a football field away. Other than that, the room was empty, nothing to be found in the grayish-amber light save for him and the awful, all-consuming silence that smothered his ears and made his skin crawl.

He was alone.

“Zelda?!” Colin bellowed, the sound tearing painfully at his dry throat, echoing offensively off walls that probably hadn’t heard a sound in centuries. He didn’t care. “Zelda?! Hey, where are you?!”

“Not quite,” came a high, familiar voice from somewhere behind him, and Colin whirled around.

It was the boy in the fox-mask, the kid who had led them through the alleyway and into the museum via Tingle’s disgusting hideaway. If he were being honest, he’d nearly forgotten about him.

“Where’s Zelda?” Colin asked, but before the strange boy could do more than shake his head, a second sound caught his attention.

It was a  familiar giggle, cutting through his thoughts, distorted and mocking. Shoulders tensing, Colin backed nervously against the window, the small boy following, and let his eyes dart about the room in fear. He knew that laugh. It was the laugh of that boy who floated in the air, the one with the strange mask, the one who’d made everything go dark. But where was he?

“Look at you two, all holed up in the corner like rats!”

Colin jumped; the masked boy could clearly see him, but Colin had no idea where _he_ was… Figures. Cameras, maybe? Was that why his voice sounded so odd?

“Where are we?” Colin managed, throat tight. “Where’s Zelda? What have you done with her?”

An undignified snort echoed throughout the room. “Don’t you already have a girl? And here I thought you were the virtuous one. Seems like somebody’s priorities are a little screwed up...”

“Shut up!” Colin snapped, anger spiking at the reference to his ex-girlfriend. “Just tell me where my friend is!”

“Well you can’t have it both ways, man. I’m trying to do you a favor here. Give you the chance to finally prove yourself! I mean, how is your girly-friend gonna feel when she finds out you wanted to rescue some other girl instead of her?”

“What are you…?” Something cold and dark settled in the pit of Colin’s stomach.

The boy cackled again, voice odd and distorted. “Judging by your face, I think you made your decision.”

“Tell me where Aryll is!” he roared, anger getting the better of him.

“Alright, alright, sheesh… We’ll make it into a game. Listen up.”

Suddenly, his voice changed; darker, smoother, more confident.

“No hero was ever _the_ Hero without a heroic cause worth dying for. Ready for yours? The girl you love is in danger. Can you navigate the puzzles of this dungeon quickly enough to save her, or will your one and only shot at being the hero vanish with her dying breath? A passion that defines… This is a test of your _heart._ ”

The masked boy’s cackle faded off until it was gone, replaced once again by the same oppressive silence.

“Hey, wait!” Colin shouted, stepping forward and whirling around, looking for a boy he knew wasn’t there. “Come back! What kind of danger?! What do you mean, dying breath?! Answer me!”

Silence was his only response.

Colin’s heart was pounding furiously inside of his chest. Aryll… the girl he loved was going to die. Aryll was going to die. Aryll was dying. Aryll, dead. Gone forever.

But he could save her.

Desperation and determination stole over his heart with equal ferocity, and he clenched his fists, arms trembling. He could do this. This time he’d save her, and he’d do it without putting anyone else at risk. Here and now, he was finally getting the chance he’d been longing for; the chance to show her that he wasn’t the same boy he was before the shooting, that he was a hero in his own right, like Link. And maybe she’d still never forgive him… but if she’d at least just talk to him again… maybe then everything would be ok.

Colin set off at a quick jog down the room towards the distant doorway, white tennis shoes kicking up clouds of dust as he went. Wherever he was, be it part of the museum or no, hadn’t seen human life in a long, long time. He didn’t have time to worry about how he got there, however; Aryll came first. Nothing else mattered.

“You doing ok?”

Colin shot the boy at his side a brief, considering look. He didn’t know who this kid was, or why he’d known how to get into the museum, but though he had dubious origins and even more dubious intentions, Colin didn’t want to see any harm come to him. He was just a kid, after all, and whatever was going on here in the museum tonight was clearly pretty serious. This boy was only going to get hurt.

"Listen," he began, then hesitated upon realizing he didn't know the kid's name. "Fox-mask kid, you should probably stay here. I don't know where we are, but whatever these thieves are up to, it's clearly pretty serious. A security guard or police officer has to come by eventually – just wait for them and they’ll make sure you’re safe. I have to go… see about a friend.”

The boy stared at Colin for a long moment as though not comprehending his words.

“Dude,” he said finally, flipping up the front of his mask and showing his face for the first time, “Colin, it’s me.”

Colin took in the boys surprisingly pretty face and his stark ruby eyes, feeling completely lost.

“I, um… Sorry, but I don’t-“

“Kafei!” the boy blurted out, throwing his hands into the air and letting the mask fall back over his face. “Kafei Dotour! We went to high school together last year! Come on!”

Colin could only gape. Kafei?! The Mayor’s son? Anju’s missing boyfriend?! There was no way…! For one thing, Kafei was a college student, whereas this kid can’t have been older than 10!

Clearly seeing the disbelieving look etched across Colin’s face, ‘Kafei’ groaned and rolled his eyes behind his mask.

“Fine, don’t believe me, whatever. What about this ‘girly-friend’ the masked kid was talking about? He meant Aryll, right? How are we supposed to find her?”

The oddness of a masked kid calling another masked kid ‘masked kid’ was momentarily overshadowed by Colin’s confusion over how Kafei’s miniature clone knew Aryll, but he shrugged both thoughts off. They had more important matters to deal with. Like saving her from… whatever it was she needed saving from.

“I don’t know,” Colin relented, turning back to face the room and spotting a doorway on the opposite wall. He immediately set off in its direction. “Let’s just get moving for now. We’ll figure it out when we get there.”

‘Kafei’ followed without further comment.

As they made it to the halfway point, Colin’s eyes were drawn to the statues on the podium to his left. Maybe podium was too strong of a word; it was more like a raised platform, six inches higher than the regular floor, about six feet in length by three, resting against the wall.

Perhaps the oddest thing of all, however, was what was on the wall. Colin slowed his jog to a walk, and then stopped completely, staring in consternation. There, etched high into the wall, was an oddly ornate carving of a massive owl, wings spread wide, talons in front as though poised to strike. The markings on its face vaguely resembled a mask. An odd choice for a castle or temple like this to have, but who was he to judge another’s culture? He couldn’t say for sure exactly why it caught his attention, but a moment later he found himself looking at what was attached to the wall beneath it; dangling from the talons of the owl were two swords.

Well… ‘Swords' was perhaps being too generous. One of the weapons was broken; it bore a long handle, suggesting that the blade itself had originally been quite long, but it had snapped off about a hand's length from the hilt which made it barely longer than a knife. The other one was made entirely of wood. The first looked dull, though you could probably get a decent stab out of that jagged point; the other looked like it had never been sharpened at all, assuming you could sharpen a wooden sword at all.

Colin licked his lips. The masked boy _had_ said there’d be danger ahead… a weapon would probably come in handy. Then again, he didn’t really know how to use a sword. He’d taken a couple of classes once because he thought it was awesome, but his father had told him that swordplay was an archaic tradition that wouldn’t come in handy in the real world, and he’d transferred to more modern self-defense classes and started spending more time at the shooting range with his father. Really, he’d rather have a pistol right now, but beggars couldn’t be choosers… he may as well take what he could get.

Stepping up onto the platform, Colin examined the two options before him with no little disdain before grabbing both weapons and handing the broken longsword to the boy.

“Um…?” Kafei replied, frowning down at the would-be sword Colin had given him as though he’d just received the lamest gift at a white elephant gift exchange. Colin rolled his eyes; hey, at least his was actually metal! What was he complaining about?

"It's short enough for you," Colin explained, giving the wooden bludgeon a practice swing so he could get used to the feel of it. "I don't know what we'll be up against, but any kind of weapon is better than nothing, right?"

“I guess,” the masked boy sighed, testing the edge of the blade against his thumb.

Colin considered telling him to be careful, then shrugged the thought off. He wasn’t this kid’s parent, and actually-Kafei-transformed-somehow-into-a-kid or not, he had more pressing issues on his mind.

Aryll was in danger, Zelda was gone, he had no idea where anyone else was or how he’d appeared somehow in some ancient temple-looking place, and all he had was a wooden sword and a mysterious underaged sidekick. Not exactly the greatest beginning to a heroic tale, but he would make due.

_Just hang on, Aryll. I’m on my way._

* * *

When the wind funnel stopped and Groose’s feet collided with the floor, he did something he wasn’t proud of; he tripped and fell flat on his face.

Groose was no stranger to tripping; hey, he was a big guy with large feet! Clumsiness was part of the package! He was not, however, used to falling on his face in front of others. He knew better than anybody how one public embarrassment could utterly ruin a reputation; after all, he was the master of hurling freshmen into trashcans. Public embarrassment was his middle name. Er… his middle names.

Thankfully, he was only with Midna Twili, the midget-goth wonder, Queen of the Outcasts, Bizarro with a capital B. Her opinion didn’t matter much. Still, as he hastily pushed himself back onto his feet and checked to make sure his pompadour was still coifed, he felt his cheeks begin to burn bright pink.

She’d better not mention this to anyone, or else he’d…!

The heavy thud of a door shutting echoed from behind him, and he remembered himself; moon crashing down, flying kid with the mask, apocalypse… He spun around, half expecting to see a wall of fire and the end of existence as he knew it, only to be met by a pair of familiar wooden doors and one very confused Midna blinking rapidly through the morning sunlight with a vacant look on her face.

Morning sunlight…?

Groose slowly turned on the spot, shoulders tense and eyes like saucers, taking in his surroundings.

There was no howling wind, no flying mask kid, no imminent death… The moon was still there, still larger than life, but it looked like it had retracted to a safe (well, safer) distance. A pleasant breeze swept by, rustling through his hair. Gentle morning sunlight illuminated the front doors of the clock tower. A puppy scampered past, yipping playfully over the din of the crowds gathered not too far away amidst rows of stalls, tents, and wagons set up by merchants peddling their wares.

This was some hard-core déjà vu…  Which could only mean one thing…

"Oh, Goddesses…" Groose croaked, suddenly seizing Midna by her shoulders and jerking her in until her wide, startled ruby irises were inches from his face. "Midna, we… we… _we’re dead!”_

To his relief, rather than filet him for violating her personal space, Midna merely sighed and shook her head, dismissing him without more than an irritated shrug.

“Don’t be an idiot,” she muttered without looking at him, staring instead at the book in her hand. “We’re not dead.”

“Huh? But then... how d’you explain all this?” He spread his arms and looked around. It was definitely the same as earlier when they’d first come out of the clock tower. The crowds, the dog, the carpenters hammering away in the distance, the morning sunlight and the moon bearing down upon them… Something kooky was going on.

Midna bit her lip and shook her head, staring at the book as though it were a complicated play in the coach’s playbook and the game depended on her. He knew the feeling; he’d been there before.

“What I don’t get,” Groose continued, crossing his arms and frowning thoughtfully, “is how we didn’t get squished. I mean, why didn’t that moon get us? And how’d it get way back up there in the sky?”

An uncomfortable look flashed across the smaller girl’s face. “W-well… I think… I might know what happened.”

He stared. “You do?!”

"Maybe," she snapped defensively, then took a deep breath. "Look, just… Let me explain, but don't interrupt till I'm finished and don't you dare laugh. You understand, meathead?!"

Groose blinked, taken aback at her sudden hostility. “Um… yeah?”

“Good. Ok. Um…” Carefully, as though she were handling a poisonous animal, she opened the book and flipped a couple pages until she got to one with the page folded over. Flattening it out, she turned the book to Groose and said, “Read it.”

Groose snorted. “What? This is Ancient Hylian, I can’t read…”

He trailed off, something like numb surprise taking over as his eyes scanned the page, taking in every symbol and understanding it perfectly. It had something to do with music… Music and… magic?

“You see this?” Midna asked, pointing to a picture of some sort of oval thing with holes all in it.

He grunted in response.

“It’s the same as the one Mr. Happy gave to me. When I was reading this in the Mayor’s office, I came across this page and recognized the instrument. It says it’s called an ocarina… And look down here. See these music staffs? They’re all songs… Uh, magic songs…” Groose quirked an eyebrow, and her cheeks flushed, but she hurried on. “When we got to the top of the clock tower and that kid was there, the book fell from my hand and opened to this page. I saw this song… the one that says ‘Song of Time’, and I played it… And now, here we are.”

There was silence between them as Groose stared at Midna, and Midna stared at the book. The wind rustled by, fluttering the edges of the paper. Finally, he broke the silence.

"So… what you're sayin' is… We magically traveled back in time."

She hesitated, then nodded. “I… I think so, yeah.”

Groose shut the book with a snap, making Midna jump. “Well, I guess that settles it,” he said simply, holding the book out to her.

“Settles what?” she asked, surprised, gently taking the book and hugging it to her chest.

"That you've completely lost your mind. I mean, the whole ‘we're in your dream' thing earlier I can forgive because we were both a little stressed, but I mean… Magic? Really? I knew you lived in a fantasy world, but this…!"

His hearty chuckle was cut painfully short by the sudden introduction of Midna’s fist to his gut. He doubled over, wheezing, as Midna widened her stance and placed her fists on her hips, a challenging look in her eye.

“Listen, _imbecile_ ,” she hissed venomously, eyes flickering like live coals, “I don’t know exactly what’s going on, how we got here, or why any of this is happening. I don’t know who this masked kid is, or why we have to play his sick game and try and save this stupid village from the friggin’ _moon._ And I don’t know why we can read this book, or why that song did what it did, or how time travel is even possible. All I know is that it _happened_ , and we’re stuck in this nightmare together for now, so let’s just focus on getting out of here without killing each other, alright?!”

Groose forced himself to straighten and shot her an irritated scowl, but her sardonic smirk hardly seemed repentant. Dang vampire chick… It would be his luck to be stuck with her. Well, she was right about one thing; they were in this together. May as well try and get along.

“Fine. You got a plan?” Groose grunted, trying not to grind his teeth.

Midna looked away shiftily. “Uh… Not exactly. But I figure, if this book told me how to reset time, maybe if I read it all the way through, I’ll find out some way to stop the moon.”

Groose snorted, throwing his hands up in the air.

“Hey!” she snapped. “I don’t see you coming up with anything!”

“Your plan is to read a book all day! We need an action plan, Midna! It’s game time! What happens when midnight strikes in about an hour and a half and we’ve got nothin’?!”

“Then I’ll just play the stupid song again! As long as we have this, we’ll have as many chances as we need to get it right! Just… Din, just let me try, ok?! It’s not like we have anything better to do!”

Groose opened his mouth to shout something back but stopped himself. As much as he hated to admit it, she was right; they were at a loss, and maybe that book did have an answer… Well, as long as he wasn't the one who had to read it. He hated reading.

“Fine,” he muttered petulantly, placing his hands on his hips and frowning. There was an uncomfortable pause in which the two stood in silence, looking in other directions, not sure what to say. Groose cleared his throat. “So, uh… Do we go back to the Mayor’s place and sit on that couch, or…?”

“There’s a nice little park we passed by in North Clock Town. I figure we can probably sit there without being bothered by anybody.”

He’d never admit it, but he liked the sound of that better than that stuffy office. At least he’d be outside in the sun. Groose loved the outdoors. Maybe he could work out to pass the time?

“Sounds good!” he said in an attempt at jocularity, clapping his hands and rubbing them together with a forced smile on his face.

Midna stared at him for an awkward moment before shaking her head and walking away, slipping the dark green book into her purple shoulder bag. Groose let his smile fall and quickly set off after her, mildly relieved.

The trek to North Clock Town was short and uneventful. They passed by crowds of eager villagers, all with forced smiles plastered on their faces to hide the terror underneath. They’d noticed that the previous night (or was that a half an hour ago?) as they’d ran around the town begging the people to flee. He knew they were in a dire situation, but something about it just infuriated Groose. This was a village full of victims who’d simply rolled over and decided to accept their fate. Why wasn’t anybody fighting? Why wasn’t anybody trying to stop this? They’d all simply thrown in the towel and given up.

Sure, fighting against the moon must seem impossible, but… this was their lives they were talking about. Their homes. Their families. Their friends. Their children. When that much was on the line, you _never_ gave up, never stopped fighting, even when it seemed impossible… _especially_ when it seemed impossible.

Groose had always believed in fighting for what he wanted, no matter the odds. It was something his father had taught him, something he carried with him in his daily life. Something that took him to championships in rugby all throughout high school, something that had turned Ordon’s team around when he’d arrived. Giving up wasn’t in his nature, and as he stalked through the crowds behind Midna surrounded by the defeated and the hopeless, he felt something inside of him begin to burn.

He would fight for these people, not just because he had to in order to get out but because they wouldn’t fight for themselves. He would show them, somehow, that you _never_ surrendered.

…First he just needed to figure out how.

North Clock Town was easily the most peaceful part of the village. Luscious grass filled the park along the pathway that led to the city gate, dotted with the occasional dandelion or patch of clovers. For the most part, this section of the village was devoid of commotion, as most of the commerce happened in the urban parts, and the only activity to be had here was one sleeping guard by the gate, a group of kids playing on an old-school playground, and a handful of carpenters working busily atop a nearby roof.

The sun was bright and cheerful overhead, already halfway towards its zenith as Groose and Midna entered the park and plopped down on a bench alongside the north road, not far from the kids on the playground.

There was peace for a few moments as the two sat in a comfortable silence, the only sounds being the laughter of children mixed with distant hammering and the occasional page turn. Soon, however, Groose began to get restless. He was never much of a sitter; he wanted to just get his hands dirty and start working on a solution to the problem, but until she finished that book they had no idea where to start… And reading a book wasn’t exactly a two-person job.

Sighing, Groose adjusted his sitting position for the fourth time and let his eyes settle on the kids playing by the playground. He watched absently as the small cluster of boys gathered around an old tree, apparently distraught over something. None looked to be older than eight.

As he watched, one boy suddenly leaped up, wrapped his skinny limbs around the tree trunk and began trying to shimmy his way up. He made it about two inches before falling to his butt on the grass to the loud laughter of his peers. As he stumbled away, rubbing his wounded bum and flushing in embarrassment, the next boy leaped up and tried to climb the tree, only to fall clumsily to the floor as well. Groose let his eyes travel up to the branches and noticed a bright yellow ball stuck near the top of the tree. Understanding flooded through him.

Groose leaned forward and turned his attention to the carpenters. Most were up on the roof, but there were a couple on the ground near a pile of tools, wood, and metal scrap. They’d jerry-rigged some sort of pulley system and were hefting some of the larger beams up to the top to assist in the construction. An idea blossomed in his head, and Groose stood up.

“Where are you going?” Midna muttered, not turning away from her book.

“Just gotta stretch my legs a bit,” he replied innocuously. She grunted, and he took that as a positive response, so he strode off towards the men building the roof.

One of the workers noticed him approaching and broke off to confront him, a guarded look in his eye.

“What is it, kid?” he asked, thin mustache quivering over a puffy lip, glimmering in the sunlight from the sweat. All he wore were a pair of worker’s boots, filthy green shorts, and a blue vest that showed off his hairy, sweaty chest. His hair was fantastic; a wild brunette afro that would have put the Wonder Years to shame. Not quite as stylish as Groose’s own pompadour, but he respected it nonetheless. “You lookin’ for some work? We could use a hand.”

“Nah, sorry guys. I was just wonderin’ if you had some spare rope I could borrow. Just for a minute or two. And maybe a piece or two of that metal scrap?”

The man frowned, giving him a once-over. “…Why?”

Groose shrugged sheepishly, tucking his fingers into the pockets of his jeans. “Well… you see those kids over there? They got their ball stuck up in that tree, and I figured I’d maybe give them a hand.”

The afro man turned and examined the kids across the park curiously for a moment before turning back to Groose. Finally, he nodded, approval flashing in his eyes. "Sure kid, why not? That's mighty nice of you to help out those children. What's your name?"

“Groose. Groose Loft.”

The two shook hands.

“Well I’m Mack,” he replied, flashing a toothy grin. He looked a bit like one of the men who worked for Groose’s father. “Our boss is in a meeting with the mayor right now, but I’m sure he wouldn’t mind having another hand on construction for the Carnival. If you change your mind, you let me know.”

“Sure thing,” Groose said politely, then strode over to the pile of discarded tools. He selected a piece of rope approximately twenty feet in length, and then dug through the scrap metal until he found what looked like a bent three-pronged hook that might have previously been used in the pulley system. He took a hammer and banged out the dents, then fastened the rope to the hook and straightened up, heading back towards the tree.

The oldest of the boys with a red bandana was about to attempt the tree climb until he noticed Groose. The others parted swiftly, swarming away from the stranger and gathering behind the boy in the red who was obviously the oldest as well as their leader. He squared his shoulders and shot Groose a challenging look, but Groose ignored him, staring instead at the tree with a contemplative frown.

Selecting a branch about midway up the tree, Groose twirled the hook-end of the rope in one hand before lobbing it up at the branch. The hook swung around a few times before catching, and Groose gave a few practice tugs to make sure it held before placing his foot on the trunk and pulling himself up.

It was tough work, but Groose was a strong guy. He reached the lowest branch without issue and steadied himself on it before working his way up the rest of the tree.

The kids gathered below him with looks of wonder on their faces. From across the park, he could see a few carpenters stopping what they were doing to watch his progress. He almost felt like he was back at school playing rugby, all eyes on him. He reached the branch that the makeshift grappling hook had secured itself to and heaved himself atop it, securing his position and gingerly raising to his feet, hoping the branch didn’t give out under his weight as he reached for the ball.

From this height, he could see over the tops of the walls into the surrounding countryside. Snow-capped mountains, what looked like a giant tower, a forest… He blinked and did a double-take. Was that… a space telescope?! What on earth was that doing here?!

“Groose! What in Farore’s name do you think you’re doing?!”

Groose glanced down in surprise and found Midna standing at the foot of the tree in the middle of all the boys, a heavy frown on her face.

“Uh… Helpin’ these kids get their ball back?”

“Well, hurry up and get down before you break your neck, alright? We can’t afford to deal with that right now.”

"Yeah, yeah…" he muttered to himself, snagging the ball and tossing it down to the sound of cheering from the kids. He shot one last look at the observatory before climbing back down, unhooking the rope as he went.

When he dropped back onto the grass, he shot Midna a cheesy grin only to be shut down by a look of flat disgust.

“What was that all about?”

“What? I was bored, and these kids needed some help, so-“

“So you went tree-climbing?! Groose, what if you fell and broke your leg or something?! There aren’t any hospitals around here, and I don’t know that going back in time would fix that! If you just used that thick head of yours for once, maybe we could-”

“Alright, alright, I get it! Geez!” He shook his head and started gathering up the rope to take back to the carpenters. Din, this chick nagged him worse than his mom! “No more tree-climbing! But listen, I thought I saw somethin’ useful while I was climbin’ that tree-“

“Oh Din, here we go…” She groaned, rubbing her face with her hands.

“No, really! Listen, I could have sworn I saw some sort of observatory or somethin’! Like, one of those buildings with those big telescopes for looking at the stars and stuff!”

“…and?” Midna deadpanned, not looking impressed.

“And? Well, we should go there! Some guy who studies space and stuff; he probably knows about the moon! Like, how it got this way and maybe what we can do to fix it!”

Midna stared at him but said nothing, idly chewing the inside of her cheek. Groose waited with bated breath, hoping she’d give in so he could finally do something useful…

“How would we even get there, anyway?” She finally asked, and Groose felt like cheering. Haha, he wore her down! No more sittin’ on the stupid bench!

Before he could answer, a little voice piped up from behind him.

“Hey! Big guy!”

Blinking in surprise, Groose turned around and found himself confronted by the leader of the gang of kids. He sized Groose up like he was an equal before turning and spitting into the grass. Groose liked him immediately. Midna, however, frowned with revulsion and shook her head.

“Disgusting…”

“Thanks for getting our ball back.”

Groose smirked. “Nah, it was nothin’. Don’t worry about it.”

The boy scowled at him. “No way. The Bombers pay back our debts. We don’t take charity from anybody.”

“The Bombers?” Midna chimed in, looking confused.

The boy shot her an irritated look. "It's our secret club. We're the Bombers. We have a secret clubhouse that nobody can get into unless they're one of us. Normally we don't tell grown-ups, especially not… _girls_ …” He said the word with so much derision that Midna quirked a brow, looking taken aback. “But this is a special case. We heard you saying you wanted to get into the Astral Observatory.”

“The what?” Groose asked, dumbfounded.

“The place with the telescope, idiot,” Midna hissed.

“Oh.”

“Listen up,” the boy barked, staring Groose dead in the eye. “The old man at the observatory is good people. He lets the Bombers use the space below his observatory as our hideout. The guards ain’t letting anybody out of the gates right now on account of the monsters outside, but since you helped us, we’ll let you use our secret passageway. But you have to promise not to tell anybody where it is. Ever. You got that?”

Midna shot Groose a look that seemed to say, ‘oh you have got to be kidding me.’

Groose, however, merely nodded in acquiescence and said, “Alright. So where’s this hideout?”

“Down an alleyway in East Clock Town, by the mayor’s office. One of our guards will be on duty. Give him the password: five, three, one, two, four. Follow the sewer till you get to a ladder. Climb it and you’re there.”

“Guard?” Midna asked, incredulous, and was promptly ignored.

Groose and the red-bandana boy exchanged grave looks, sizing each other up one last time.

“Thanks, kid,” Groose finally said, extending a hand.

The leader of the Bombers nodded, extending his own. They shook.

“Bombers, move out!” he cried, and they scattered.

Groose nodded respectfully and turned to Midna, a smug look on his face.

“You know… I like those kids.”

Midna scoffed. “You would. They seem like your kind of people.”

“Thanks!”

She opened her mouth, then closed it, shaking her head. “You know what, never mind. So I guess it’s off to the sewers now? Yay…”

“Right. But give me a sec; I have to give this rope back.”

Only Mack the carpenter didn’t want his rope back. When Groose and Midna approached, they were met by a group of five or six men who applauded them with surprising gusto.

“You know what, kid?” Mack said, striding forward and slapping Groose on the shoulder, “You’re alright. You got up that tree pretty fast too. You’re pretty smart.”

Midna groaned.

"Heh, thanks, Mack. Anyway, here's your stuff back-"

“Nah, you keep it,” he replied, pushing the bundle back into Groose’s surprised arms. “It was just scrap anyway, and who knows; a clever kid like you, you’ll find a use for it.”

Surprisingly touched, Groose tightened his grip on the rope.

“Thanks, Mack.”

“Hey, no problem, kid. You sure you ain’t lookin’ for a job?”

“Nah, we were just leaving. We have some important stuff to do.”

“Alright then. See you tonight at the Carnival, yeah? It’s gonna be one to remember.”

Something sour settled in Groose’s stomach.

“Yeah… see you around.”

There was silence as Groose and Midna walked away from the carpenters and the peace of North Clock Town. It was as though for a moment he’d forgotten about the weight of the moon over his head, but the moment Mack had mentioned the Carnival, it all came crashing back down. Sure, Midna seemed to think she could wind back the clock an indefinite number of times, but… In the end, she was only delaying the inevitable, and these people… These people would all die unless they found some way to help them.

The hustle and bustle of life washed over them like a tidal wave as they entered East Clock Town. He could see the Mayor’s office, the men juggling in the plaza, people preparing for the festivities that night. He could see the moon overhead, preparing to crash down upon them and wipe them from existence…

"It was really nice of Mack to give me this," Groose said softly, looping the rope around one arm and fiddling with his belt buckle.

Midna rolled her eyes. “It’s a bunch of rope and a hook. It’s junk. What good is it going to do us?”

There was a bite in her tone, but something told him her frustration wasn't with him. Maybe Mack's comment had gotten to her too. Then again, Midna Twili was still a mystery to him; he didn't understand how girls like her ticked. She could be pissed about anything. It was probably something he did.

There were numerous little alleys between the buildings in this part of Clock Town, but it wasn’t hard to guess which one was the right one. After all, only one had a little boy in an orange bandana stationed out front with an angry scowl on his face.

When Groose gave him the password, he seemed positively floored, but he let them by without comment. He did, however, ogle at Mida like she was some kind of foreign creature. Groose caught her sending the boy a flirtatious wink as a joke, and he had to stuff his fist in his mouth to stop himself from busting out laughing at the sight of the boy’s face flashing red.

Back into the alleyway, behind a couple crates and a half-empty rain barrel, sat an open manhole cover.

Midna made a face of disgust, but Groose ignored her, heading down the narrow ladder first as though to prove what a man he was. Though he was grateful to see her follow him.

The passageway below wasn’t overly long; the tunnels clearly connected all over the village, but most of them were blocked off by locked gates, leaving only one way forward. There was barely more than a trickle of liquid on the ground, but it was enough to stymie them momentarily. They carefully picked their way through the gloomy passage, trying not to slosh too much water around as they reached the end of the tunnel which opened up into a larger antechamber, filled with crudely made signs that said things like, ‘Bomber’s Hideout! Scram!’, ‘No Girls Allowed!’, and ‘Bombers Secret Society of Justice Forever!’

Numerous toys and chairs dotted the room, as well as a table covered in papers and drawings and a couple of toy swords. It was still a little damp and gross, but he could see why the kids liked playing here. No adult supervision coupled with the sense of adventure… This was the sort of place he would have hung out in if he was still a kid.

At the end of the room, an old wooden ladder led up into the ceiling.

“Ladies first,” Groose replied, motioning her forward.

“Shut up,” she grunted, shoving past him and heaving herself upward. “And no looking at my butt!”

Groose snorted as he grasped a rung to follow up after her. “I can’t look at what you don’t have.”

Her foot slipped and hit him in the face.

When he finally clambered up the ladder and straightened to his feet, he found himself in an odd sort of storage room.

The floor was made of old, well-worn wood, and the walls apparently made of concrete. Another one of those weird clocks hung on the wall, idly ticking away. A single winding staircase followed the circular wall up to a second level. Some sort of wacky, new-age paint job had been done on it, so every segment was some different neon shade of green, yellow, red, or violet.

Crates and jars filled the small space, covered in tarps, globes, and oddly-shaped bundles, most of which were covered in dust. Glass tanks littered the room, housing exotic looking rocks that glittered like gemstones. Several sheets of paper littered the floor and a nearby writing desk, topped with quills and inkwells and stacks of ancient books. A chicken was held in a cage suspended in the air just over what looked to be an indoor garden, if such a thing existed in a place with no sunlight, complete with several ripe turnips and a scarecrow.

All in all, it didn't look like the kind of place Groose wanted to spend his time. This was clearly the crib of some whack-job free-spirited hippie. He turned to Midna, wondering if this place was more her speed, seeing as she was basically the dictionary definition of weird, only to find a similar look of discomfort on her face. Apparently, this place weirded out even her. That can't be a good sign.

“Where… are we?” she asked, stepping forward and picking up the globe, spinning it around. “And what is this supposed to be?! There aren’t even any landmasses on here!”

“I guess this is the telescope place,” Groose replied, examining some of the objects on the desk. There were compasses, protractors, rulers, an abacus, an astrolabe… And page after page of complicated equations. Whoever this dude was who lived here, he seriously knew his business.

“But why would an astronomer need a scarecrow and turnips?”

“Because that astronomer has big dreams,” came a soft, older voice from behind them.

The two teens whirled around, hearts racing. Descending the staircase before them with slow, hesitant steps was the hunched form of a white-haired, knobbly old man. He wore a floor-length blue robe, complete with a matching fez, and sported a rather long, luxurious weave. His mustache wasn’t joking around either, though his goatee was surprisingly wispy. His face was heavily lined and wrinkled, though when he reached the bottom of the stairs and turned to face them, Groose was surprised to see a look of profound sorrow on his face.

“Who are you kids? You’re not with the Bombers, are you?” the man asked, in a kindly, grandfather-like tone.

Groose and Midna exchanged looks.

“Uh, no sir,” Midna offered, stepping forward. “We didn’t mean to just barge in unannounced like this. We hope we didn’t upset you.”

The man smiled kindly. “Never, child. I welcome visitors. It isn’t often people come to visit me. They think me mad, insult my work, and call my dreams delusions of grandeur…”

“What work?” Groose asked, looking around. “You mean all this math?”

“Yes, quite. I am Clock Town’s resident astrologist; I study the stars and other celestial bodies, hoping to one day unlock the secrets of the universe…”

“What’s mad about that?” Groose asked, rifling through the sheets of unworked math equations on the work table absentmindedly. It looked like some sort of formula related to Bernoulli’s Principle, and a few notes jotted down about hydraulics.

“About curiosity? Nothing. Everyone has dreams, my boy. It’s when you begin to pursue what others call impossible that people begin to look at you askance. But mark my words – one day, I shall fulfill my dreams, and sail a ship across the stars… Oh, but here I go, rambling on again. You must think me mad as well.”

Groose barked out a laugh.

"Definitely. You'd have to be insane to think you could make it up to space with this garbage. I mean, you demonstrated your work on velocity and displacement totally wrong – at least, you forgot there were more factors at play in reality, like gravity and friction from the air and... I'm no expert on this, but maybe a good starting point would be this equation here…"

He snatched up the quill and scribbled a series of numbers and letters down on the parchment.

"… It may not help you get into space, but it's a starting point. And this here… What is this, a rocket ship? Powered by bombs?! That's gotta be the most suicidal thing I've ever heard, and I'm a rugby man. Nah, you gotta get some kind of fuel that, after combustion or some kind of chemical reaction, expels hot gas or something with enough velocity to propel your ship in a certain direction with constant, steady force. Otherwise, you'll fall or blow up or…"

The sudden realization of what was coming out of Groose’s mouth caught up to him, and he snapped his jaw closed. Turning hesitantly to face his companions with a nervous laugh, awkwardly scratching the back of his head, he found himself met with two very strange looks. The astronomer was staring at him with something like mixed awe and wonder, as though Groose were the answer to all his prayers. Midna, however, had an odd twist to her face, like Groose was some sort of particularly bizarre insect, and she was trying to decide whether she should squish him or not.

Hot shame was bubbling up in Groose’s belly. It was one of his darkest secrets, something he’d sworn would never get out so long as he was a student at his new school. Groose… was a nerd.

Well, not really. He’d never go so far as to call himself a true nerd. But it was a fact that Groose was fascinated with and particularly gifted at physics. He wasn’t too good at other parts of school; chemistry was iffy, biology a nightmare, history the bane of his existence, English pointless, and math great or awful depending on the subject. But physics… Physics was his passion. And his one great shame.

Upon moving to Ordon, he’d decided to remake his image. He’d worked out the whole summer, rededicated himself to sports, became the captain of the rugby team, hid any evidence of his nerdy secrets, and had sworn that in this, his senior year in high school, he, Groose Loft, would be the coolest, most popular, manliest guy in school. There was no room for scholastics in his dream. Only popularity… and the ladies.

He’d been doing pretty well, he liked to think. Chicks showed interest by playing hard to get, people parted for him in the hallways, everything was going great… Except for the fact that that Link Hero kept getting in his way. Hero was more popular, had more friends, literally everyone loved him, and he had the hottest girl in school as his girlfriend. No matter how hard Groose tried, despite the fact that he was better at sports, was the better-looking guy, and had the bigger personality, he’d never been able to beat Link.

And now, he’d just revealed one of his biggest secrets to Link Hero’s best friends. His popularity was never going to live this down… It’s a good thing she didn’t know about his father, or he’d be done for.

“My boy…” the old man gasped, stumbling forward and snatching up the paper he’d scribbled the equation on, staring at it as though it were the secret of life itself. “How… How on earth did you come up with this principle?!”

“Oh, uh… School?” he offered lamely, casting nervous glances at Midna, who was still staring at him like a three-eyed frog.

“School? There exist academic institutions which teach such things as this?!”

“Uh… sure?”

“Where?! What is the name of this blessed haven of knowledge?”

“Ordon High-?”

“None of that matters right now, sir,” Midna cut in loudly, flashing Groose a ‘shut up right now, you imbecile’ look.

The old man clutched at his chest as though suffering a heart attack. “N-none of it matters?! Excuse me?! This is my life’s work, miss! I’ll thank you kindly not to insult the very meaning of my existence!”

“Well, your existence is about to be cut painfully short when that moon dangling over our heads pummels us all into oblivion,” she replied, tone drier than the Gerudo Desert.

Groose and the old man exchanged looks.

“I… I suppose you’re right, my dear,” the man panted softly, drawing back the chair in front of the work table and sinking into it. “If my calculations are correct, then by sometime tonight the moon ought to make contact with the city, and all shall be lost…”

“Right. But look, astronomy dude, we’re here to find some way to stop it from happening, and we figured we’d come talk to you since you, ya know… study space and what not. Is there anything you can tell us about, I dunno, maybe when the moon started fallin’? Do you know what happened to change that?”

The man shook his head, a lost look on his face. "No, my dear boy, I do not… I can only recall that the moon began its perilous descent roughly a week ago. At the time, I didn't know what to think. However, we then began to hear reports of a masked imp showing up all throughout the land, sowing chaos, disrupting trade, pulling juvenile pranks with serious consequences… And now the land is in shambles, all hope has been lost, and the people merely wait for our inevitable demise. All things must end, after all… 'tis the nature of things…"

Groose and Midna exchanged looks again. The masked kid did this? Well, he sent them here, and he’d been on top of the clock tower, so in a way it made sense, but… He’d been there for a full week wreaking havoc? Well, time was certainly different here, but… Still, none of this was clicking.

“I don’t get it. The kid in the mask did this? But how? How can you pull down the moon?”

“Magic,” Midna said softly, staring down at the book in her hands.

“Yes indeed…” the astronomer chimed in. “A dark and nefarious magic that imp possesses… Derived from the mask he wears on his face…”

“Wait, so the mask is magical? How does that even work?”

The old man shook his head. “I do not know how his mask derived its powers; there are many ways. I merely know that his possesses them. In this land, it is not uncommon for masks to yield a power beyond one’s understanding… I myself possess a strange mask handed down from a long-dead royal line said to make its wielder become as one of the legendary Giants of yore…”

“I knew it. I knew magic was the solution to our problems!” Midna shot Groose a dark look. “Look. I really need to sit down and read this book. Our only hope at saving this village and getting back to our friends could be hidden somewhere in these pages. Now stop distracting me and let me read!”

“No!” Groose nearly shouted, causing Midna and the astronomer to jump. “Listen, Midna, I get that you’re doin’ what you think you need to, but what about me? I can’t just sit here and do nothin’! I want to help!”

“Help how?! We’re up against the _moon_ here! What could you possibly do?!”

Groose’s mouth opened and closed, but no words came out. What could he do…? What _could_ he do?

Almost of their own volition, his eyes drifted back to the sheets of paper on the work table and the various diagrams and equations drawn there. His eyes landed on the image of the bomb-powered rocket the astronomer had been talking about, which called to mind another image; that of the bomb shop they’d passed the day before, and the massive bomb perched atop it.

Groose’s hand drifted back to the grappling hook at his waist.

An idea blossomed in his head. A crazy idea. A psychotic, suicidal idea. Probably the single most brilliant idea he’d ever had. And he was going to make it work.

He barely paused to explain it to Midna. Taking the astronomer with him, they left Midna to her own devices there in the Astral Observatory where she’d have all the peace and quiet she needed to study her book. He made sure to promise that if midnight drew near, he’d come back to find her before the apocalypse happened so she could wind back the clock and they could try again. She wasn’t too thrilled with him, but as he explained, Groose wasn’t used to being kept on the sidelines. Groose was an action kind of guy. Besides, if his plan didn’t work, they always had her, so he might as well give it a try.

Gathering up as many supplies as they could from the old astronomer’s workshop, they scrambled down the ladder and through the sewer system, heading back to Clock Town. If Groose’s plan was going to work, he would need every able-bodied man he could find. Thankfully, upon resurfacing, Groose and the astronomer quickly stumbled into the red bandana boy and his blue bandana’d friends whom Groose had helped that morning at the park.

Judging by the sun, it was two or three in the afternoon; not a whole lot of time left. He had no idea how he was going to get all the townspeople together to listen to him… Until an idea struck.

Kneeling down, Groose quickly explained the situation to the leader of the Bombers, the astronomer leaning over and listening in curiously. The boy closed one eye and examined Groose thoughtfully before nodding his head and giving the thumbs up. Groose clapped the boy on the shoulder and thanked him before heading off towards South Clock Town with the astronomer in tow, the Bombers scattering in every direction.

They snagged a partially-constructed vacant stall and scattered their supplies out over it, picking up rulers and protractors and bits of charcoal to write with as they hastily began sketching out the designs for Groose’s project, codenamed ‘Operation Firework’. They argued back and forth for a bit, crumbling up papers and drawing out long equations, debating weight and distance and trajectory; never had Groose been so open in his hidden love for physics, and never had he had a partner who was more responsive. In fact… Groose couldn’t remember having this much fun doing math in his entire life. He didn’t even know that was possible!

Before long, he glanced up and realized that a small crowd of people had gathered in front of the stall, courtesy of the Bombers. He could see tourists and craftsmen, construction workers and guards. They’d done their job in getting the people’s attention; now he just had to get them to follow him.

Standing up on the half-finished stall, tennis shoes thumping on the wooden boards, Groose looked out over the crowd and took in their faces; the hollow eyes, the sunken countenances, the general state of fear and hopelessness in which they all lived, cowering under the weight of the moon and a fate they thought they couldn’t change… Well, Groose was here to fix that. As of now, they were taking destiny in their own hands.

“Everybody listen!” Groose cried loudly over the sound of bustle and murmuring. The people obeyed, eyeing his clothes and hair with apprehension and mistrust.

“I know that right now, most of you are doin’ your best to put on a brave face. I know that you’re terrified of the moon, of a fate you think you can’t escape, but you still keep on walkin’ around and actin’ like what we see over our heads isn’t there. But it is there. Come midnight tonight, the moon’s gonna fall, and then it’s all going to be over.”

Whispers broke out as the crowd became agitated, and he could see several angry glares and trembling shoulders. If he didn’t hook them soon, there’d be a riot, and he’d be dead.

"You've been faced with a scary decision; stay here, in the only place you've known as home, and meet your death tonight on the Eve of the Carnival… Or else try and flee and hope that you can somehow survive. I have bad news. It won't work; either way, you're dead."

Angry murmurs began echoing throughout the crowd, and he saw a few men begin hastily pushing their way towards the front to get to him.

“What if I told you that there was a way to stay in the city and have your Carnival, and still survive?” he shouted loudly, and the crowd hesitated, shooting him distrustful looks.

“I know this sounds insane, but I’ve been sent here to help you, and I think I found a way to do it! It’s all right here, drawn up and mapped out on these sheets of paper! The old astronomer dude helped out, and he says my plan is good. This can work! We can save the village and the Carnival, together! But I’m going to need all of your help to do it!”

There was silence as the crowd stared up at Groose. Groose stared straight back, trying his best to look confident but acutely aware of the sweat dripping down his back. If this went poorly, they were liable to tear him to shreds.

From the back of the group, a man pushed himself towards the front and examined Groose critically through beady black eyes under a wild afro. Groose blinked in surprise; it was Mack, the carpenter.

“…What is it you need us to do exactly?” he asked after a moment.

Groose had to stop himself from laughing with relief. Praise the Goddesses that he’d met Mack earlier that morning. “I need all the artisans, all the blacksmiths, all the leatherworkers, and especially all the carpenters, to come with us. We’ll need to bring all the lumber we can get our hands on. The astronomer and I have created a blueprint for a device that can save us from the moon, but it’s too much work for two men alone to handle, so we’re asking for your help. We’re also going to need a lot of rope. If we can get anyone skilled in rope-making to get on the job right away, that would be perfect.”

“Hold on!” somebody in the crowd called out, “Who is this boy? How do we know we can trust him?!”

There was another pause as the crowd turned in on itself, buzzing with dozens of miniature conversations, and just when Groose was worried that he was going to lose them all, the boy in the red bandana, leader of the Bombers, leaped onto the table beside Groose.

"Listen up, you old codgers!" the boy bellowed, cutting everyone off mid-sentence. "This here's Groose, honorary member of the Bombers Secret Society of Justice! He's a good guy who likes to go around helping people! Already he's made friends with us, the Carpenters, and even the old geezer from the Astral Observatory. Even more, he's got a plan to help save everybody, and I say we give him a hand! Who's with me?"

It wasn’t exactly the most inspiring speech of all time, but to Groose’s surprise, the crowd let out a cheer, and instantly everyone began moving, heading out to complete their respective missions or gather their friends for the effort. Stunned, Groose hopped off the table and found himself surrounded by the astronomer, Mack, the leader of the Bombers, and a handful of other craftsmen.

“What do we do first?” Mack asked, and Groose grinned.

“Start gathering our supplies and workers out in the field. We’ll begin construction on the Groosenator immediately. But there’s still one more person we need on board…”

The afternoon passed with surprising speed, even for a world where time moved faster than normal. One moment Groose was dishing out orders in front of a half-made stall, and the next he was standing in the fields outside the village, working a saw over a fallen tree. There was something cathartic in the work, something immensely satisfying in getting your hands dirty rather than sitting around like a lump, and he relished in it. Strangest of all, he felt good because… Well, he was helping people. And Groose had never really done that before.

The people of the village worked with surprising alacrity. With the astronomer overseeing them from a worktable they’d carried out to the field, Groose, the carpenters, and anybody else who could lend a hand were busy chopping, sawing, sanding, shaping, and putting together the frame for Groose’s grand design.

The Bombers helped out by carrying water and small supplies. Craftsmen and blacksmiths began appearing with lengths of heavy rope as well as nails and metal bands to reinforce the structure. It seemed as though nearly half the townsfolk showed up to help build the Groosenator; maybe they weren't as helpless as he thought. Apparently, all they needed was a good kick in the butt and somebody to lead the way.

Day swiftly turned to night, and torches were brought out to illuminate the field so the men could keep on working. As they hollowed out the bowl and attached the arm, Groose couldn’t help but wonder how on earth they’d managed to finish the project before midnight. No way could they have constructed such a thing in under an hour… unless… Unless, because time was relative, by losing focus on the passing of the sun he’d become a part of this world and therefore bound himself momentarily to their sense time, thereby making it feel as though time passed normally and giving them enough time to finish the project…

All of this was too confusing for Groose, so he shrugged off the thought.

At last, as the earth gave a tremendous quake and the Clock Tower within the city began to chime and move, signaling that midnight had arrived and destruction was imminent, a wagon appeared from within the city, carrying the massive bomb from the bomb shop.

A cheer went up from amidst the gathering crowd, and men immediately set to work removing the massive explosive from the cart and placing it in the bowl of the Groosenator. A proud grin illuminated Groose’s face. He could barely believe it… He’d done something right.

“Groose! _Groose!”_

Turning in surprise, Groose found himself face to face with an out of breath Midna, who jogged into view and doubled over panting.

“Here… you are… We gotta… go…”

“Go? But we’re about to do it!”

“Do what?” she asked, confused, and then her eyes alighted on the catapult. “What in the world…?” she breathed, looking floored.

Groose couldn't blame her. It was quite the work of art if he did say so himself. Nearly the size of a house, this catapult, lovingly named ‘The Groosenator', defied any and all expectations that he'd had for it. It was a marvel of engineering and craftsmanship, a true testament to hidden genius and the will to survive. Honestly, it deserved recognition in the Guinness Book of World Records… Assuming this world had such a book.

As they looked on, the massive bomb was successfully loaded and another cheer went up.

“Groose…” Midna breathed, “what is that?”

“Heh. That’s the Groosenator. Designed her myself.”

“You _what?!_ How…?! Why…?! Since when could you do things like that?!”

Groose blushed and scratched at the back of his head. “Oh. Um… Well, see, it’s like this… My dad, he, um… He’s a carpenter.”

He let the last bit out in a rush, flinching, waiting for her to start laughing like he knew she would.

A moment passed by and nothing happened, so he cracked an eye open to check on her. She was staring at him nonplussed.

“…And?”

“And? O-oh, uh…” Why wasn’t she laughing? This was his most shameful secret of all time. His family was poor. He’d never live this down. Why didn’t she care? “Well, I’d go and help him out sometimes when he needed it, and… Well, I’m pretty good at working with my hands.”

“More than pretty good, I’d say,” she muttered, staring at the catapult with admiration.

Groose blinked. “Uh… thanks.”

“So what are they loading in there?”

“Oh, um… A bomb. Remember that huge bomb we saw on that shop the night before? Well, I figured we could put it to good use.”

“You did what?!”

One of the soldiers took a torch and pressed the flame into the wick of the bomb, igniting it. Another cheer went up.

The ground shook again, and the sky burned red. The moon was entering the atmosphere.

“Yeah, isn’t it great?” Groose yelled over the roar of the wind and the cheers of the townspeople.

"NO! No, it is _not_ great, Groose! Are you insane?! What do you think is going to happen once that bomb hits the moon?!”

“Uh… It’ll blow up?”

“Yeah! It’ll blow up! And then what happens?!”

“Uh…?”

Before he could answer, Mack the carpenter approached the catapult and, to the cheering of the crowd, pulled the lever.

“No, wait!” Midna cried, running forward, but it was too late.

With a tremendous snap, the arm jerked forward at a blinding speed, launching the massive bomb into the air. The crowd grew silent as every pair of eyes followed the lit explosive on its crash-course to the moon.

There was a massive, eardrum-bursting explosion and a flash of blinding light. Everyone was knocked to the floor.

Disoriented, Groose heaved himself to his feet and, dizzy, turned his attention back to the village.

Horror overwhelmed him. As he looked on, powerless, massive flaming chunks of the moon showered down on the village, crushing buildings, igniting the thatch. The clock tower was struck and toppled to the side. Red painted the skyline as terrorized screams could be heard echoing from the city, and the end of the world rained down upon them.

Groose felt sick.

“Midna… Midna! Midna, play the song! Midna, now, play it! _Play the song! Play the-!”_

The wind intensified, lifting him off his feet, and the world went white.

 


	11. Nightmare

“I can smell the sea!” Red cried ecstatically, hurrying ahead. “Mr. Linebeck, I think we did it! I think we’re out!”

Linebeck blinked, caught off-guard, then took a deep whiff. Without another word, he picked up his pace, heart thundering in his chest. Marin wasn’t the only one who could smell the ocean; the air was thick with the salt of the sea, and the occasional gust of wind ghosted down the corridor, kissing their cheeks. Were they really there…? Was the end of this nightmare really in sight…?

As they rounded the last corner, Marin let out a delighted squeal. They were outside. Finally, after what felt like an eternity trapped in the masked kid’s stupid game, dodging armored sentries and solving basic puzzles, they were free…

The corridor dumped them out onto a narrow part of the ship that offered a lovely glimpse of the sky. A small smattering of stars could be seen in the dark sky to the west, but a light was beginning to shine on the opposite side of the horizon, spreading pinks and oranges into the deep blue like accidental splashes of paint on canvas.

Linebeck felt his breath catch. It had been years since he’d last been on the sea. He swore in his youth that he’d never sail again, but now… now that he was forced back here against his will, he remembered why he’d loved it so much. The boat rocked back and forth lazily in the predawn, waves lapping against the wooden siding in a gentle rhythm, wind tousling his hair… He was free. Nobody to tell him where to go or what to do. Solidarity… the dream of any man…

Marin stepped to the left, the only direction they had left available to them, standing at the edge of what he assumed was the prow, taking in the view. Linebeck moved to join her, eager to experience the sunrise at its fullest but stopped as something caught his eye.

Directly in front of where they’d exited was a wall, with the prow of the ship being off to their left. The wall wasn’t bare, however. Just across from him was a door… a wooden door with a simple, modern brass doorknob, the kind you wouldn’t expect to find on a wooden ship, especially not on the prow. But the strangest part was the plaque on the door. An oddly familiar plaque made of white plastic with the words ‘Employee’s Only’ stamped across it in black lettering.

Linebeck knew that plaque. He knew that door. It was the same door that could be found in Castleton's Museum of National History in the room dedicated to the Outer Islands. He knew the door because he'd passed by it so many times. It was a janitor's closet.

Forgetting his surroundings, he strode forward and grasped the handle, turning it decisively and throwing it open.

Inside were a bunch of mops and brooms, some buckets, and a myriad of chemicals and other sorted cleaning supplies like ceramic cleaner and polish and antibacterial hand soap. Not the sort of things you’d expect to find on a ship, but exactly what he knew they had in the museum.

What in Farore’s name was going on?

“Hey Red!” Linebeck called over his shoulder, frowning into the dark closet, mind whirring. “Come and check this out real quick.”

There was no answer.

Turning to look over his shoulder, he found Marin standing in front of the prow staring out at something he couldn’t see, eyes wide, hair billowing behind her in the wind.

“Kid, you alright?”

Marin slowly turned to glance at him and jerked her head, motioning for him to move closer.

Curious, Linebeck shut the door and walked over to join her.

“Hey, there’s a closet over there from the museum full of cleaning supplies. What do you suppose that…”

He let his question trail off stupidly, eyes finally catching hold of what Marin had been staring at.

There, on the very edge of the prow, facing the rising sun, was the shadowy figure of a man wearing a silly hat and a cape.

“I don’t think we’re alone…” Marin whispered softly, resting a hand against the rope rails that he just now noticed had been placed along the sides of the prow.

“No kidding,” he retorted dryly. Honestly, she could be a real Einstein sometimes… “The question is, who is he? And what does he want?”

No sooner had he spoken than a tremendous metallic crash sounded from behind them. Whirling about, they were greeted with the image of a massive metal gate now barring the way from where they came.

Linebeck and Marin’s eyes met with mirrored looks of apprehension before slowly turning back towards the man.

The wind picked up, ruffling through their clothing, and the man turned to face them, cape billowing in the dawning light.

Marin let out a sudden loud, theatrical gasp that would have put most actresses to shame.

“Look out!” She cried, throwing her hand over her mouth and pointing dramatically, “It’s a…! It’s a…!”

“A pirate?” Linebeck supplied, cocking his head to the side and scratching at his chin. “Or a robot maybe? Both? Uh… a skeleton? Or…”

Marin gasped again, cutting Linebeck off and making him flinch.

“Look out! It’s a skeleton robot pirate zombie!”

Well, it certainly looked the part. The sky was starting to brighten, and now that he could see more clearly he was able to pick out a few details about their unknown guest. It was obvious from the way he looked to the way he moved and the way the morning light of the rising sun glinted off his body that his entire frame was made up of metal. The way that he was constructed, however, gave the impression that he was oddly thin and skeletal by design.

Apparently being a skeletal robot wasn’t unique enough for him, however, and he’d decided to deck himself out in pirate paraphernalia. He had on a large pirate captain’s hat, some striped pants, a pair of black boots, an old-fashioned overcoat with thick seventeenth-century shoulder pads complete with cape, and a necklace of golden coins strung about his metallic neck. On his face, he wore a black eye patch over his fake mustache and creepy, skeletal grin. A grin which he turned on them, made all the more unsettling in the half-light, and threw his cape off into the ocean.

It was only then that Linebeck noticed the cutlass in one hand and the large hook in the other. With a rattle, the robot pirate began charging down the prow towards them, weapons held aloft.

Marin and Linebeck simultaneously latched on to each other and screamed in terror.

“What’s going on?!”

“I dunno! He wants to kill us!”

“I’m too young to die!”

"Well, I don't want to die either!"

“Well then go and do something!”

“Me?!” Linebeck squawked indignantly as Marin ducked behind him and shoved him forward. “Why me?!”

“Because you’re the big, strong man! You’re supposed to do the protecting!”

“No way, kiddo!” Snatching her by the forearm, he quickly spun them around so she was in the front. “I won’t be the man responsible for setting the entire feminist movement back by fifty years! Show us some of that girl power!”

“But I’m just a kid!” She wailed, twisting his arm and diving back behind him again. “I’m not ready to deal with this! It’s your job to defend the weak and helpless!”

"Well, how am I supposed to do that without a-!"

“ _He’s right behind you!”_

Linebeck and Marin let out twin screams of feminine panic. Whirling about, Linebeck barely had time to shove Marin backward before a swipe of the pirate robot's blade would have cleaved him in two.

“ _WhatdoIdowhatdoIdo?!”_

“Here, use this!” She shouted, handing him one of the multitudinous flutes from within her shoulder bag.

“Hiyaa!!!!” Linebeck roared, hefting the flute and hurling it at the skeleton. It smacked painfully into the robot’s face and bounced off the side of the boat, falling into the ocean.

“That… isn’t quite what I meant,” Marin stated lamely as the pirate captain stumbled backward a few paces, clutching at its face.

Linebeck shrugged. “Hey, at least it did something useful.”

There was a growl, and Linebeck turned his attention back to the robot who was straightening back up, glaring murderously in their direction.

“And now I need you to do your job! Find me a weapon, quick!”

“Like what?!”

“Anything!” Linebeck wailed, dodging another slash. “Anything! A stick, a squirrel, a banana- anything!”

“But I… oh! Be right back!”

And with that, Marin ran away.

“Red!” Linebeck cried, cowering back against the wall of the ship as the robot pirate bore down on him. “Hurry! _Hurryyyyy!!!!_ ”

“Here!” Marin cried, reappearing behind Linebeck, arms laden with things from the supply closet. “Take this, you freak!”

She lobbed a small metal bucket in the robot’s direction, missing by a good five feet. It sailed harmlessly over the edge of the prow and was gone.

“That’s not helping!” He cried, leaping out of the way as the enemy’s sword slashed at the wall, leaving a massive scratch where his body had been only moments earlier.

“Take this!”

Linebeck suddenly found a mop shoved into his hands.

“What am I supposed to do with this?!”

“Clean house!” She cheered, punching her fist victoriously into the air.

“C-clean…?!” Linebeck spluttered, left eye twitching. Really? Puns? At a time like this?

“Watch out!”

Twirling around, Linebeck barely managed to get the mop up in time to deflect another slash.

“Haha! I’ll swab _your_ deck!” He bellowed fiercely, slamming the mop head into the creature’s face and moving it up and down. Hey… this pun thing wasn’t half bad. It made him feel downright heroic, it did.

The pirate appeared stunned for a moment, then deftly slashed its hook at the mop handle, snapping it clean in two.

Linebeck let out a shrill squeal and cowered against the wall.

“How about this?!”

Marin finally brought the Wind Waker out to bear, sending a powerful gust of wind at the enemy. The air whistled uselessly through his clothes, doing nothing.

“You’re supposed to be helping, Red!”

“Uh… Uh… Ok, um… how about…?”

She ruffled through her purse and brought out another one of the flutes he’d found earlier in a chest. Screwing up her face, she randomly placed her fingers on the keys and blew into the mouthpiece.

The shriek that emitted from the rusty metal instrument was, beyond a shadow of a doubt, the single most painful, annoying, migraine-inducing sound ever to have been heard on the Goddesses' green earth. Linebeck clamped his hands over his ears, falling to his knees in agony, trying to stop his brain from exploding within his skull. Shockingly, through tear-filled eyes, he could see the robot doing the same at his side.

Unable to take another second, Linebeck lashed out with his hand and snatched the instrument from the surprised girl’s hand.

“What is wrong with you?!” He snapped.

“Robots!”

Turning, he swung the flute in his hand and intercepted the cutlass with a clang and a spray of sparks. The robot looked every bit as surprised as Linebeck. Stepping back, the robot swung again, and Linebeck deflected it with the flute. Once more he swung, with the same result.

A wild laugh escaped Linebeck’s throat. “Look at me, I’m Errol Flynn!”

With a flick of its metallic wrist, the flat of the robot’s blade struck Linebeck’s hand and the flute joined its brother and the bucket out into the ocean.

“Or… not.”

“Let me try this!” Marin called out before putting another flute to her lips and preparing to blow.

“No, wait!” Linebeck cried, and even the robot looked terrified, but it was too late.

Marin blew, and Linebeck steeled himself for complete and utter auditory torture. Only the sound that emanated from the instrument was anything but torturous; high and pure, it echoed out harmlessly across the ocean before fading sweetly into the distance.

There was a pause as Linebeck and Marin, and even the robot, glanced around as if expecting something strange to happen.

“…Was that it?” Linebeck asked.

Something fluttered by overhead.

As one, the three combatants glanced up, searching for the source of the sound and felt their jaws drop. There, soaring out of the dark sky, was the unmistakable form of a massive, blue bear.

Linebeck and Marin screamed, latching onto each other and retreating back to the janitor’s closet. The Robot tried to fall back to the far side of the prow, but it was too late. With a feral roar, the massive creature swooped down and slammed into the metal monstrosity, knocking it over the safety ropes and into the pitch-black ocean below before flapping away.

Exchanging bewildered looks, Linebeck and Marin ran forward towards the prow and peered off over the ledge. The surface of the ocean bubbled and frothed where the robot pirate captain had taken his dive, but he never came back up.

“…I don’t think he can swim.” Marin said after a moment.

“Yeah… He picked a strange profession, all things considered.”

There was a ‘whoomph!’ from behind them, and the two turned to find the bear sitting back on his haunches on the prow, staring at them expectantly.

“Um…” Linebeck asked, suddenly nervous, licking his lips and backing away from the large, carnivorous mammal. “Did you bring this thing here?”

“I guess?” Marin replied. “The flute must have summoned him. Do you think it’s friendly?”

“I don’t really want to find out.”

Marin stared at the bear for a second, shrugged, and then stepped cautiously forward, one arm extended.

“Hey there, big guy…” she murmured sweetly. “I’m Marin. Did I call you here? What’s your name?”

The bear opened its massive jaws, revealing a multitude of sharp, glistening teeth and responded to Marin’s question with a loud yawn.

Marin’s eyes grew wide. “Oh my Din… He… Is so… Cute!”

With a girlish giggle, she leaped forward, throwing her arms around its neck and burying her face in its fur, scratching behind its ears as she gushed over her new pet.

Linebeck let out a weary sigh, rubbing at his face. He was beginning to think that he’d been drugged. This day was simply getting weirder and weirder…

There was a flash of light followed by a light thump, and Linebeck turned to see a ladder had appeared on the wall between the janitor’s closet and the hall that led back down into the belly of the ship.

“Hey Red, I think we found where to go next.”

“Goodbye, Moosh!” She called out, ignoring Linebeck and waving emphatically as the bear lifted off his haunches and flew away on impossibly small cherubic wings.

“Moosh?”

“That’s what it says on his collar.”

“It has a collar? Well, hey, there’s a ladder. Ready to see what the rest of the ship looks like?”

She shrugged. “As long as there aren’t any more robot pirates skeleton zombies, I’m good.”

“I hear ya, sister.”

The ladder only had to reach about eight feet before Linebeck reached the top and could pull himself up. Carefully, he peeked his eyes above the ledge and scanned the area for imminent danger.

There was nothing. The deck was abandoned.

“Well?” Marin called from below.

“…I think we’re clear,” he said, feeling surprised.

“Cool beans. Can you hurry up and move?”

Harrumphing, Linebeck hastened onto the deck and helped Marin get to her feet behind him. As one, they turned and examined the empty deck in the growing light.

“Wow.” Marin breathed at his side.

“Yeah.” Linebeck echoed.

They were on the deck of an old-fashioned wooden ship, the kind they sailed hundreds of years ago. The wood was worn, a lovely light beige shade that looked brown in the half-light. Massive white sails billowed in the wind above them amid ropes and pulleys. Just ahead, twin staircases led up to the back of the ship where the helm could be seen behind a darkly lacquered balcony. In all, the ship's design was simple, yet perfect.

“It reminds me of my father’s fishing boats, back when he used to let me go sailing with him as a kid.”

Linebeck shot Marin a look, eyebrows rising in surprise.

“Your father used to take you sailing?”

“Uh-huh,” she chirped, smiling broadly as she stepped forward, running her hand across the rails. “I’m from Koholint. My father used to take me out on his boat all the time. There’s nothing I love more than the sea… well, except for music maybe.”

A newfound sense of respect for the odd little ginger was building unexpectedly within him.

“It reminds me of my old steamship,” Linebeck found himself saying, walking slowly towards the mast, eyes rising towards the sails. “Back when I lived in the Phantom Isles, before the war. Inherited it from my grandfather. I used to ferry people between islands for money. It wasn’t a very glamorous job, but… I enjoyed it.”

“You’re from the Phantom Isles?” Marin asked, surprised.

“Yup. I’ve been to Koholint lots of times. Mabe Village was one of my favorite spots as a kid. They used to have this festival every year with this silly sideshow attraction called ‘Trendy Game’-“

“You’ve played Trendy Game?!” She spluttered, looking utterly floored. “I love Trendy Game! I used to play it every year, but I could never beat the high score!”

“Thirty-two thousand?” He asked slyly, sending her a crooked smile.

“Oh, uh… yeah, I think that’s how much it… Wait, how did you know…?”

Her eyes grew as wide as saucers, and Linebeck turned away to hide his laughter.

“No way…” She breathed. “No way are you the Trendy Game master!”

She let out an unexpected squeal and Linebeck flushed.

“Ahh! I can’t believe it! My friends are going to be so jealous that I actually met you! I can’t wait to tell them!”

“Ah, yeah, well…” Linebeck coughed, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. He wasn’t used to being praised for anything, even something as silly as Trendy Game. “That’s assuming we ever get back home. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Red, but we’re sort of in the middle of the ocean… which puts the kibosh on your museum game show theory.”

Marin deflated like a punctured balloon.

“Oh yeah…  Where do you think we are? And how did we get here?”

“I dunno, kid,” he mused idly, thinking about the janitor’s closet from the museum. “I really don’t know…”

Marin sighed, walking forward and examining the rigging. “It’s a shame we don’t know how to sail this thing.”

"Speak for yourself," Linebeck grumped, stalking down the deck, heading past the mast and towards the stairs that led to the helm. "Didn't I just tell you that I grew up in the Phantom Isles and owned a steamship? I know how to sail an old wooden sailing boat."

“Really? Oh wow! Mr. Linebeck, you’re so cool!”

Linebeck stumbled but righted himself quickly.

“Oh, uh… thanks, Red.” He kept his back to her, not wanting to show how red his face had just become. What was going on with this girl? She’d complimented him more times in the last few minutes than he could remember being complimented in his entire life. There was an uncomfortably warm feeling growing in his chest, one that almost felt like affection for the scrawny, red-headed twerp. Something needed to be done about this.

“What can I do to help?” Marin asked as Linebeck took the helm in his hands and began turning it.

"Um… I don't know. Wanna climb up to the bird's nest and see if you can spot any land?"

“Aye-aye, captain!” She chirped, mock-saluting and giggling playfully before turning and scrambling up the ladder beside the mast. Linebeck shook his head. Kids today watched too much tv.

As she climbed, yellow sundress swaying in the breeze, Linebeck turned and took in the small wooden ship with a smile. Old fashioned though it was, there was something invigorating about being behind the helm of a boat again. Though something was odd… Judging the size of the ship from what he could see on deck, there was no way they’d traveled through as many halls and floors as they had to get here. The ship simply wasn’t that big. It wasn’t possible. And why was the deck abandoned when they’d gotten here? Wasn’t somebody steering it other than the crazy robot pirate? And what about the blue bear? And the Wind Waker? And the Phantom Hourglass? What in the Goddesses’ name was going on?

“Um… No, I don’t see any land, Captain Linebeck!” Marin shouted from the bird’s nest.

"That's alright!" Linebeck called back. "Just stay up there and keep a lookout, ok? Let me know as soon as you see something!"

 _And stay away from me._ He thought uncomfortably. The last thing he wanted was to get attached to one of these stupid kids.

“Ok!” She chirped. “I’ll just practice my new instruments!”

“Yeah yeah, whatever.” He muttered, turning his attention back to the sea.

A high, clear whistle could be heard from above, followed by a giggle. Linebeck shook his head. This girl was far too easily amused.

A shadow fell over the ship.

Blinking in surprise, Linebeck barely had time to tilt his head up before it was upon them. A massive bird, almost as large as the ship, with blue and red plumage and an odd metal mask over its face swooped down out of the sky with a ferocious cry, talons extended, ready to attack.

“ _TSEEEER!!!”_

“Ahhhhh!!!!!”

"RED!" Linebeck shouted, throwing his hand out uselessly, but it was too late; the monstrous creature's talons closed around the ginger girl in the bird's nest in a moment and snatched her away. Seconds later she and the bird were gone, flapping away over the seas, Marin's screams echoing over the vast expanse of nothing all around them.

“RED!” Linebeck cried again, running to the side of the ship, desperately wracking his brain for something he could do, something he could use to save her, a gun, a cannon, anything-

There was a massive boom and the ship suddenly pitched forward as though it had collided with a sandbar. Caught off guard, Linebeck was flung forward, off the side of the ship and into the sea, inky black water swallowing him whole. He fought to right himself in the swirling waters, but he was sinking fast and the faint light of the predawn wasn't enough to pierce the darkness around him. The ship vanished from sight, he couldn't tell which direction was up, and before he knew it, he was lost to the churning tide.

* * *

Darkness enveloped Zelda and she stumbled blindly backward, arms flailing through the air until her hip collided painfully with a large wooden object.

Bracing herself against it, she let her eyes dart wildly about, vainly trying to pierce the darkness and see where the white-haired man and his floating masked accomplice had gone, but to no avail. The darkness was thick, and she could barely see through it. After a few moments of panicked breathing, it occurred to her that she could feel a gentle stream of cool air blowing on her shoulder. Her brows furrowed; it felt like an air vent, but… there hadn’t been any vents anywhere near her in the storage room.

Where exactly was she?

“Colin?” She called out uncertainly, her voice sounding unnaturally loud and high-pitched in the darkness. “Colin, where are you?”

There was no answer.

“Fox boy? Hello? Anyone?”

She pursed her lips and worked saliva into her dry mouth. Something was wrong… Something was terribly wrong…

“Well, well, well…” Came a voice from out of the darkness around her.

Zelda jumped and dug her fingers into the wooden object behind her, eyes wide and fearful.

“My, how the mighty have fallen… Ghirahim was right. There’s something truly _delicious_ about seeing you like this, Your Grace. I almost couldn’t believe it when I found out. I mean, I love spreading the seeds of chaos and misery as much as the next demon, but even I couldn’t have thought up anything like _that_ little stunt you pulled back in the day. And here I thought upsetting the status quo was my job.”

The voice was like nothing she’d ever heard before; it echoed, as though multiple beings were speaking simultaneously, warping and distorting, and yet underneath the dissonant sounds she could make out the unmistakable tone of pure cruelty, and beneath that still, the pure, high-pitched voice of a child.

The boy with the mask.

“Where are you?” Zelda asked, trying her best to sound calm and in control and ignore the frantic beating of her heart.

“Where am I? Princess, you’re asking all the wrong questions. Have you given any thought at all to where you are?”

Zelda swallowed unevenly. The feeling of wrong surged again, and she almost felt like the darkness around her was smothering her.

“Are you going to tell me, or are you going to keep dragging this out?” Zelda bit out, feeling frustration building within her. If there was one thing she hated more than being toyed with, it was feeling powerless, and at the moment, she was experiencing both.

“Haha!” the voice cackled. “There’s the woman I remember! Oh, you used to have such fire! …Now you're just another pathetic bag of flesh. What on earth were you thinking?"

“Tell me, kid! Tell me or leave me, I’m sick of hearing you talk!”

“Tch, rude. Very well then… Welcome, Princess, to your tower.”

Ice stole over Zelda’s heart, a terrifying echo from countless past lives in response to a single word...

“My… My what?”

“Your tower. You know, in a way it’s funny. You and your Hero were so content to stay quiet about that little incident last year, determined to protect yourselves from what would happen if word got out… but now, who’s going to protect your friends?”

“What are you…?”

“Your lies have caught up to you, Princess. You kept your silence and now you pay the price. They’re lost, they’re scared, they scurry like mice as the weight of centuries of history’s lost truths threaten to bury them alive, and the only one who can save them, their precious Hero…? He won’t be showing up this time.”

“Link’s not-!”

“A part of the picture anymore!” The voice cackled gleefully from the darkness, cutting Zelda off once again. “And you…? You thought you could take his place? Hee hee! Honestly? Don’t make me laugh, Princess! What right have you to call yourself a Hero? What right have you to take his place after all that he’s been through? You’re every bit as bad as that other pathetic mortal Triforce bearer, Ganondorf!”

“What are you talking about?!”

“You deny that you’ve mistreated him?”

“Of course I do! I would never-!”

“The Hero was alone.”

The words cut her off like a kick to her gut.

“In every age and in every trial, the Hero fought and bled and suffered alone.”

Zelda’s mouth worked, but no sound came out.

“ _Where were you, Princess?”_

Iron bands had secured themselves around her chest, restricting her breathing. Her mind was reeling, every ounce of her willpower struggling to fight the onslaught of emotions that suddenly surged at his words, bubbling up from a seemingly bottomless well of past lives she could barely even remember. So much guilt… why was there so much guilt?!

“In the past, you were content to sit and wait in obscurity for another to face the danger, and it will be no different now. While your friends are forced to deal with horrors they never dared to dream were realities, you will be powerless to help them. Weep, Princess, for the realization of your futility. Weep for your nightmare made real.”

With a final cackle, the voice was gone, and Zelda sunk to the floor despondently, hot tears spilling out of her eyes and down her cheeks. Oh, Goddesses, what was going on? Why was she crying like this? Was it… Was it true? What the masked boy said, was he right? Had she abandoned Link to save the world alone in every life they lived together? The memories of her pasts were so foggy and vague, there wasn’t anything she could possibly say for certain, and yet as much as she wanted to ignore his accusations and claim she was sure she had a perfectly good reason for whatever course of action she’d taken in the past, his words still somehow stung.

Clenching her eyes shut and willing herself to stop crying, Zelda felt her hand idly stroking the bag at her side. Alright, Zelda, calm down… clearly, whoever you’re up against knows more about you than you do, but that doesn’t mean that they’re right. Forget about it for now and just… see what you can do to help.

Maybe… there was something she’d brought with her? Some way to get help? Or at least to see where she was?

Opening her bag, she rummaged through the contents, bottom lip pinched between her teeth, tears still drying on her cheeks. Altoids? No… Makeup? No… Tingle’s nasty bottle? Ew… Ah-hah! With a flourish, she brought out her cell phone and meshed with the buttons.

Nothing. The screen didn’t even light up.

“Oh, come on, not now…!” She begged silently, smacking it around a little bit, but no dice. The phone wouldn’t turn on. No calls could be made, even if she had service wherever she was, and no light to illuminate this stupid room. Either her battery had mysteriously died, or that masked punk had done something when he’d sent her up here. Stupid magic… If only she could use it, too.

Sighing, she drew her knees up to her chest and rested her head on them, closing her eyes in defeat. She wished Link were there… Not that he’d know how to use magic, or even how to escape, but… she could use his company. She missed him. And she hated the fact that the last time they’d seen each other they were fighting, and now there they were in another supernatural struggle for their lives. She just wanted to tell him she was sorry… and that she missed him… _and I’ll save you, Link, somehow…_

Frustrated, she lifted her head back up a little too quickly and slammed it against the wooden thing behind her. The object gave a hollow ‘thunk’ almost hidden behind her grunt of pain, and something toppled off the wooden object and landed with a shattering sound beside her.

Blinking in surprise, Zelda gingerly felt around beside her, careful not to cut her fingers. Glass shards… and… something metal… and rectangular… with a soft back and… a picture frame? Wait, what?

Zelda gently extracted the picture from the ruins of the frame and held it up to her face. The room was dark, almost unnaturally so, but her eyes had adjusted well enough to make out the face of the person in the photo, and she felt dull surprise wash over her.

“…Mr. Happy?”

What on earth was a photo of the museum’s curator doing in her tower?

A thought occurred to Zelda, and she slowly climbed to her feet. Squinting through the darkness, she was still barely able to make anything out; it was as if the shadows of the room shifted and coalesced wherever she was looking, making it nearly impossible to see anything clearly that wasn’t directly in front of her, and yet… the wooden object she’d been leaning against… was that a desk? She felt around, finding pens, papers, a paperweight, staples, a coffee mug with the words ‘Believe in yourself!’ stamped across the front. Shuffling around, she felt along the walls, finding more picture frames, filing cabinets, chairs, even some windows covered with cheap blinds, however she couldn’t see what was beyond them. It must be dark outside too.

Zelda turned back to face the room and frowned. So… Her tower was the Museum Curator’s office? Well… that made sense in a way, but when the masked boy had told her she’d been in a tower, she assumed it was an actual tower. Beggars couldn’t be choosers, she supposed.

She felt her way along the walls until she found the door, but as expected, it was locked tight. Frowning, she shuffled back to the desk and felt around for a tool of some sort. In one of the drawers, she found what she assumed was a letter opener, but all she accomplished in trying to pry the door open was bending the metal tool so thoroughly that she nearly snapped it in two.

The next few minutes were filled with Zelda trying everything she could get her hands on to open the door; pens, envelopes, books, scissors, paper clips, white out… she even threw the rolling chair at the window in an attempt to break it. No dice. Apparently, whatever evil magic had been used to lock her in here and keep her in the shadows also fortified the room. She’d need something stronger than she currently possessed to get out. And from the looks of things… she might be in here for a while.

Defeat and shame started welling up inside of her as she shuffled toward the mantle in the corner of the room and rested her hands on the cold bricks that made up the fireplace. Why did a museum curator’s office have a fireplace anyway? It wasn’t even real; she knew, she tried to crawl up it only to find there wasn’t a chimney. There wasn’t even a fake fire she could plug in for light. Din, but this darkness was starting to get to her…

There was something abnormal about it, the way it clung to everything. She almost felt like she could feel it on her skin like you would moisture on a humid day, and that feeling of 'wrong' she'd felt earlier… she'd assumed it was the masked boy, but his voice had long since departed and yet that feeling remained…

Zelda let out a frustrated growl and smacked the wall in front of her, making the large mirror hanging directly in front of her face wobble. What was she supposed to do?! She didn’t want to be stuck here in this tower! Link needed her! More immediately, her friends needed her! They could be in danger! And what, she was supposed to sit here until somebody came and rescued her?! No! She refused to accept that! Not again! There had to be more to being the bearer of the Triforce of Wisdom than sitting around and waiting to be rescued!

As a last-ditch effort, she found herself praying fervently, _Goddesses, Nayru, please, help me… What am I supposed to do? Why did you send me here, only to get caught? Please… help me…_

When Zelda lifted her head to examine herself in the dark mirror, the face looking back at her was not her own.

in amusement.

Zelda blinked several times. Was this really happening? Who was that girl in the mirror? Was this the answer to her prayer? And… why could she suddenly see the mirror clearly?

It was no trick of her imagination; the image in the mirror was as clear as day, the darkness seemingly shying away from it. Amazed, Zelda stepped closer.

“Who… who are you?” She rasped, throat dry.

The girl smiled warmly.

“I’m you.”

Zelda’s brows drew together in consternation. The girl in the glass was most certainly not her. Her hair was lighter for one thing, much blonder than Zelda’s, and fluffier; Zelda’s own hair was naturally straight. Her skin was pale and fair, her nose pointier, her lips thinner, and her eyes were a crystalline blue. She wore a bright pink dress that Zelda herself would never be caught dead in. She also had a necklace of red beads strung about her neck and a golden chain around her forehead that was woven into her hair and supported a single ruby that dangled just above her eyes.

“I’m sorry… what?”

The stranger giggled again. “What I meant to say is, I was you. In a past life.”

Zelda felt like the floor had been taken out from under her. Grasping the mantle once more for support, Zelda leaned in close to the image and babbled, “I-! You-! What-? But how can…? How are you…? Why did…?”

The girl lifted her hands in a placating gesture, and Zelda shut her mouth, mortified.

“Shh, it’s ok… I know it’s a little confusing at first, but well… it’s true. I am you, from another age. I’m here because you called to me, subconsciously. Your lives and experiences are yours to call on when you need them, Zelda.”

Zelda took a few slow, steadying breaths. The situation had just taken a turn to the bizarre. Well… more bizarre.

“Uh, ok, so listen, uh… me? See, I’ve kinda been kidnapped and, um… locked up in this tower? So…”

Zelda trailed off. The other her was nodding sympathetically.

“Yes, this does seem to happen to us quite a lot.”

Zelda frowned. “Yeah. About that, how did you get out?”

“Me?” The girl asked, surprised. “How did I…? Oh, but don’t you know? The Hero saved me.”

Zelda clenched her jaw. “Well, that isn’t gonna work for me. See, Link’s a little tied up at the moment and our friends are in danger, so I don’t exactly have time to wait for him…”

The other Zelda laughed, and Zelda felt her frustration growing.

“Oh dear… Well, they certainly got the ‘desperate situation’ part down right…”

“Look, me, are you going to help me escape or not?” she snapped angrily.

The image in the glass suddenly blurred, and Zelda was met with the skeptical face of another girl.

“And what would you do if you could escape?”

Zelda blinked. This girl seemed slightly older than the last, decked out in a long sky-blue dress with short white puffy sleeves, cinched about her waist with a black belt. Her hair was slightly darker and slightly more extravagantly styled, but she and the other Princess must have lived not too far apart; the styles were different, yes, but the general fashion seemed similar.

“What would I…? I’d go save my friends! They’re in danger, they could already be dead!”

“And the Hero?”

Zelda’s mouth worked silently. Link? What about Link? He was in jail, sure, and she wanted to get him out, but she had no reason to believe he was in any immediate danger… unless she was implying something else entirely.

Anger peaking, she scowled at the girl in the mirror and grated darkly, “I don’t need Link, I can save the others on my own.”

 _I won’t make him do the dirty work this time,_ she added silently, not quite remembering why this was so important to her but knowing that it was, _this time, I’ll be the one who suffers, and he can wait in the tower. It’s only fair._

The girl flashed her a knowing smirk, and for a dreadful moment, she wondered if her past selves knew what she was thinking.

“Well then, if that’s your plan go ahead and do it.”

“But how?!” Zelda exploded, banging her fists against the wall, making the mirror sway. “How do I do it?! How do I get out of here?! That’s the whole point of this conversation! Goddesses, I’m stuck in this stupid tower with no way out and no way to save my friends because I don’t know what to do!”

Tears of frustration were threatening to fall again, and Zelda fought with all her might to control herself. Nayru, what was _wrong_ with her today?! Why did she keep bawling at the drop of a hat?! She blinked, eager to suppress the water welling up in her eyes, and suddenly the girl in the mirror changed again.

The differences between the past two Zeldas and this one were striking. Dark tanned skin, platinum blonde hair wind tossed and thrown back in a messy bun, eyes as cold and uncaring as steel, the woman wore a simple sleeveless shirt under a blue vest and ripped white trousers that were loose and billowed about her legs. A red sash was tied around her waist beside a sinister-looking cutlass, and a red handkerchief hung around her neck.

Who was this past life…? And why weren’t all of Zelda’s lives as cool as this? Or as sexy? Din, she made pirates look good!

Zelda’s eyebrows rose. Pirates. She knew which life this was.

Pirate Zelda didn’t look as impressed with High School Zelda as High School Zelda was with her. She gave her one frank look over and snorted contemptuously. Zelda’s heart wilted even further.

“Goddesses, who knew I’d grow to be such a sad sack?” Pirate Zelda grated, voice flat, and Zelda felt her eyebrows lower into a scowl.

“I don’t remember asking your-“

The Pirate snorted, digging her pinky into her ear. “Ya did, actually. That’s why I’m here, remember?”

Zelda’s cheeks flushed pink. “Well, then help me, don’t just criticize me! Tell me what to do!”

Pirate Zelda rolled her eyes, and Zelda decided that she most definitely did not like this past iteration of herself.

“Tell you what to…? Bust outta there, kid! Get off your lazy butt and kill something! Kick some bad guy trash! Save your friends! Save the Hero! Do what you gotta do! What’s so complicated about this that you need to ask for help?!”

“But I can’t do any of those things!” Zelda wailed, emotion flooding through her voice. So what if she looked weak in front of her infinitely cooler past life? At least now she knew she couldn’t get any more pathetic. “I’m not like the rest of you! I’ve done my research, I know what the previous Princesses did, and I just… I’m not a confident pirate powerhouse like you! I didn’t lead armies like in the Era of Twilight! I can’t use magic like in the Era of the Hero of Time! I wasn’t raised to be nobility, I… I can’t stand up to the rest of you! I’m just a teenage girl!”

Memories of the masked boy’s taunt from earlier flooded back into her, and she crumpled.

“…I’m just another princess in a tower.”

White hot shame and embarrassment settled in her gut even as tears slid down her face once again. She hated whiny, defeated people, and yet there she was… being whiny and defeated. How was she possibly supposed to live up to a legacy like that? Not every princess could be _The_ Princess… Sometimes, you just waited in a tower… Kinda like she did last year, she realized. She just hadn’t accepted it until now.

Pirate Zelda was looking at her like she was a particularly loathsome species of cockroach.

“Hey, kid. Stop your sniveling and listen up. No, I’m serious now, cut it out, your embarrassing me. Now, pick up your right hand.”

Zelda obeyed morosely.

“Look at it. What do you see?”

Zelda gave an annoyed sigh.

“Ya gonna answer me?”

“A glove.”

“A- what? Take the glove off you idiot and be serious.”

“The Triforce of Wisdom…” she muttered, ripping off the black fingerless glove and throwing it away petulantly.

“That’s right. You know who that belongs to?”

Zelda mumbled something under her breath.

“Me, kid. That there belongs to me.”

Zelda looked up, confused.

Pirate Zelda had her hands on her hips and the scariest no-nonsense look that Zelda had ever seen.

“The Triforce of Wisdom is _my_ birthright. It’s proof that I am the Princess of Destiny, blessed by the Goddess Nayru, Defender of Hyrule and its people- _my people_ \- and any lily-livered sack of goat excrement that tries to hurt them or get in my way is going to have more than just a hero in green tights to deal with. They’re gonna have to go through _me._ ”

The Triforce on the back of Zelda’s hand began to glow.

“Now, kid, kindly explain to me why it is that I seem to have had such a stupid change of heart?”

Zelda blinked. “I… what?”

“Go on, explain it. Why did I suddenly change my mind about protecting my people?”

Zelda looked around uneasily. “Um… You didn’t?”

“Really? Cause from where I’m standing you don’t look ready to defend yourself, let alone anyone else.”

Zelda’s fists clenched. “But that’s just it, I’m not you-!”

“ _Yes, you are, kid!_ ” Pirate Zelda roared, seizing the frame in both hands from her side of the mirror, and Zelda stumbled back, shocked.

“Ain’t no one else but me who can have that mark unless they chop off my head and pry it from my cold, dead fingers! Every Princess who’s ever born this mark is me! Who stood alone against Calamity and staved off the apocalypse for a century through nothing but sheer nerve? Me. Who led the armies in the Era of Twilight? Me. Whose magical prowess was so legendary that they could disguise themselves as a man for seven years and fight alongside the Hero of Time? Me. Who was named the seventh sage, the Sage of Time, and helped seal the Demon King within the Sacred Realm? Me. And who was the toughest, strongest, most fearsome pirate to ever sail the Great Sea? Me, kid. That’s all me.

“And who’s going to break out of this stupid tower, rescue their friends, save the Hero, and generally do what needs to be done?”

The Triforce surged on Zelda’s hand, and she lifted her eyes to meet her own in the now-normal mirror.

“Me.” She whispered softly.

Power surged through her, the memories and experiences and knowledge of a thousand lifetimes shifting and merging into one single entity, and she turned, eyes flashing, and raked her fingers through the air.

The screech of metal tearing through metal assaulted her ears as white sparks danced where her fingers literally tore through the darkness in front of her face, leaving four lines of regular, normal shadow floating in the air, far brighter than the inky black that had surrounded her since she’d appeared in the room.

An inhuman wail echoed off the walls, and the darkness writhed, shying away from her touch, coalescing into one single pitch-black entity in the corner of the room.

Zelda walked calmly away from the fake fireplace, looking down on the shadows as they convulsed in agony upon the floor.

“I knew something was wrong with this place…” she murmured softly, staring down at the blackness with pitiless eyes. “I could sense your evil, I just didn’t know what it was until now.”

In response, the solid mass of shadow twisted and bunched up, coiling into the form of a massive worm with huge flesh-rending mandibles dripping with black saliva and launched itself at Zelda from the corner, eyes glowing a feral red.

Zelda stood her ground. Raising a single hand, palm out, fingers extended, she acted on instinct garnered from countless years, centuries, _lives_ , of practice- using magic wasn’t a guessing game, not anymore. It was as natural as breathing. She willed the fire into existence, believed that it would come because she knew that it would, she’d done so before, after all, millions of times. It formed as a ball, tiny and compressed yet raging like the sun, about the same diameter as the length of her palm. As the worm neared, mouth agape, ready to bite, she launched the tiny ball of compressed flames forward, straight into the creature’s gullet.

The explosion that emanated from the monster’s belly was so intense it peeled the paper off the walls and set the corner of the desk ablaze. Zelda’s hair blew back, hot air rushing against her skin, making her eyes water. She was probably a little too close to that explosion, all things considered, but she didn’t have time for safety measures.

For now, all that remained of the massive shadow worm were globs of darkness covering every surface of the room. They steamed for a moment, looking quite dead, but one by one they began twitching and jerking, reaching about trying to find one another until with a rushing sound they surged together once more in a massive shadowy ball and converged into a second form, that of a man.

It was large, with broad shoulders and long, muscular limbs, a large nose and eyes that glowed red with almost as much malice as the man they were imitating. Even as a shadowy black doppelganger, Zelda would recognize that face anywhere. She saw it enough in her nightmares.

Pure hatred bubbled up inside her.

How dare this creature take that form? How dare it, today of all days?!

The Shadow Ganondorf raised a hand as Zelda had done a moment earlier and formed a massive ball of sparkling black and purple energy, aiming straight for Zelda’s heart. As quickly as she could she raised both arms, palms out, one to her front and the other out behind her, and rotated them clockwise around her body. Just as the ball of black death fired from the shadow monster’s hand, a blue wall of energy in the shape of a large diamond erected itself in front of Zelda, shining like the north star. The ball slammed into the magical shield, and for a moment the two forces fought against each other, the point where they met sparking with electricity. Zelda remembered this magic; it was called Nayru’s Love, taught to her in the age of the Hero of Time. It could shield its user from harm, but not indefinitely. Arms still outstretched, Zelda closed her eyes and put as much as she could into the shield, willing it to overpower the Shadow’s magic at any cost.

Finally, with a gasp she forced the ball backward; Zelda's shield disappeared with a sparkle, leaving her winded, and the ball of black magic rebounded on the Shadow, blasting through Ganondorf’s chest and leaving him to dissolve at his feet like candle wax.

Panting, she swallowed tensely and kept her eyes locked on the glob of darkness on the floor. Would this be it? Or was there more coming? Her memories seemed to indicate that sometimes certain monsters took longer to kill than others, but she was having such a hard time fighting through the discordant mass of memories screaming for her attention that she couldn’t even make up her mind on what it was. Some sort of being of darkness that could change its shape at will, and could imitate what frightened you… She thought she remembered these. They were called Nightmares, but that was all she could recall.

The pool of liquid shadow shuddered, then once again coalesced into shape, this time into some sort of massive half-man, half-boar with enormous tusks. The creature towered over her, nearly filling up the entire office, and Zelda found herself stumbling backward to give herself room and being trapped against the desk, the corner of which was still aflame.

The Shadow Man-Boar let out a bellow so loud Zelda’s eardrums popped, and put its front hand/paw/whatevers together in front of its face, building another even bigger ball of black energy. Zelda panicked; Nayru’s Love had taken a lot out of her, she didn’t think she could do another so soon, or be expected to divert an even larger ball of energy…

Terrified, she began wracking her memories for an answer, but every time she tried to delve into them all she got were visions of horses, fights with an older brother, riding on a train…

Come on Zelda, think! Think!

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the mirror on the wall behind her. An idea blossomed in her head.

Zelda had time to reposition herself just as the monster released the ball of black magic and hurled it in her direction. Raising a single hand, Zelda snapped her fingers and disappeared in a bright green flash and a sudden gust of wind, reappearing by the filing cabinet just in time to see the ball of energy hit the mirror, bounce back, and blast the monster directly in the face.

He went down with a roar, body melting once again, limbs twitching and flailing, and just as Zelda thought she’d finally done it, the shadows reconverged with startling speed, only this time the form they took was much more familiar than she had been anticipating.

Zelda blinked in surprise. Shadow Zelda blinked back, mirroring her movements with eerie exactness before smirking coyly, eyes flashing red. With a flourish it raised its hand, snapped, and was gone in a rush of black wind.

If it weren’t for the Triforce of Wisdom on Zelda’s hand, she would have been toast. As it was, she could sense the evil moving across the room, so when the shadow version of herself reappeared behind her, poised to strike, Zelda was ready.

Twisting on the spot, she caused magic of the purest light to envelope her hand, so bright it nearly blinded her, and just as the creature moved to slam a dark fireball onto her head, Zelda’s hand collided with its chest.

There was a blinding flash and the monster flew backward with a painful scream, crashing into the desk, sending both her and the heavy piece of mahogany furniture tumbling against the window, the desk now snapped in two. The monster’s head slammed against the blinds with a loud crack and Zelda heard the telltale sound of glass splintering from the sheer force of the blow.

Trembling, the monster tried to rise, but its limbs kept dematerializing like smoke in the wind.

Zelda took one last look around the room, her would-be prison cell, and felt the anger in her heart cry out for justice.

“I won’t be your princess in a tower.” She spat, holding her hand aloft and summoning another ball of fire.

The ensuing explosion blew the window to pieces, sending shards of glass, bits of flaming desk, and chunks of shadow monster flying into the large, moonlit atrium. As the monster fell, the rest of its body finally gave in, and it faded for the last time into the air amidst scraps of flaming blinds that fell slowly to the ground like streamers.

Zelda approached the hole she’d made in the wall and braced herself against it, feeling beat.

“Well,” she panted to nobody in particular, “that was certainly exciting.”

Gods, using magic was exhausting… or maybe she was just out of shape? Well, whatever. She totally wrecked house just now. Why were her friends never around when she did something cool? Oh, right… because they’re all being imprisoned by psychopaths. She should probably get on that.

Whew… Ok, so…

Now what?

w what? There was nowhere to go.

Something on the floor caught her eye. A small piece of shiny plastic, rectangular in shape, with buttons along its sides.

Walking forward, she stooped down and scooped it up.

It was a cell phone. Clicking a button, the screen lit up, and she was met with a picture of her two best friends, Sheik and Midna, glaring up at the person who’d taken the photo with evident disinterest. She remembered that moment; she’s the one who’d taken the picture. Then this was Midna’s cell phone…

So they were here. Not that she really needed any confirmation; the kid with the mask had basically told her as much, but… Where on earth could they have gone? And why did she leave her phone lying on the floor?

“Well now, that was a truly marvelous show of feminism.”

Zelda jumped and spun around, holding aloft her hand, a ball of fire summoned instantly to her palm.

Hey, she really was good at this! Instinct rocked!

The owner of the voice stood inside the fountain leaning against the statue, his hand placed rather inappropriately on the Great Fairy’s rear end. Zelda recognized him; the white-haired man from the storage room.

“Who are you?!” Zelda spat, “Where are my friends? What do you want?”

“Hmm… So many questions, whichever shall I answer?” He mused blithely, examining his nails. Or, pretending to; he was wearing gloves. What was this guy’s deal?!

“Listen, creep.” She snapped, feeling murderous, “I don’t have time for this. Tell me where my friends are, or I’ll reduce you to an incoherent puddle like your stupid friend back there.”

The man threw his head back and roared with guttural laughter. “My my, Your Grace, such animosity! You truly have abased yourself, haven’t you?! Oh, but if my Master could see you now…”

He gave his lips a sensuous lick. “…he’d simply adore peeling off your porcelain mortal skin with his teeth.”

Zelda loosed her fireball. It collided with the man in a white-hot explosion, but when the smoke cleared a moment later, he remained where he’d been standing, an orange wall of energy erected in front of him and not a single hair out of place.

“How deliciously vicious you’ve become!” He cried, eyes wide with glee.

Zelda hesitated, hit with the same wave of déjà vu she’d experienced earlier in the storage room. “You… Do I know you?”

“Do you know me indeed.” The man mused, brushing his hair out of his face. “I wasn’t too terribly surprised to see your dear Hero had forgotten me; he never was the brightest, even among mortals. But you…! Oh, the years we spent fighting each other…! Forgotten, as if they never mattered! Well, suffice to say I was crushed, Your Grace.”

Zelda had no idea what he was talking about. She hadn’t had time to pick her way through the various lifetimes she’d recovered, and yet… she was fairly certain none of them knew who this was.

“Just tell me who you are!”

“You may call me Demon Lord Ghirahim for now,” he offered with a shrug. “As for the rest of your questions… I suppose you’ll just need to search your memories. Unless of course… you haven’t got them.”

He turned his red eyes on her, and Zelda scowled.

“Such a shame… if only there was some place you could go where you could learn about your past… a building, perhaps, filled with ancient curios and historical documents, all about you…” He stopped his pacing and glanced around him in shock as if just now realizing where they were. “Well, would you look at that? How stupidly fortuitous…”

There was a moment of silence as the two stared at each other in the darkened Museum atrium.

“…Maybe you should start by checking in your home?”

With a flash of orange and black, he was gone.

Zelda sighed, lowering her palm and letting her second fireball fade away. Life could never be easy for one of the Goddesses Chosen, could it? Flashes of past memories danced before her eyes, but she shoved them away; once she saved her friends, defeated the bad guys, and proved Link’s innocence, there would be days, weeks, _years_ , to sort through her past lives and remember every glorious moment… For now, she needed to live in the present. Take only what she needed; magic, how to fight, anything that could be helpful…

Placing Midna's phone in her bag, Zelda turned and headed off in the direction of the hallway that led towards the forest, knowing that she could get to the section about Hyrule Castle not too much further in. She had better find what she needed there, or a certain albino jester was in for a world of hurt.

* * *

With a twirl of his wrist, Link wove his blade around the Hero’s Shade’s and slapped at his bony forearm, knocking his sword to the floor. The Shade countered immediately, lashing forward with his shield, but Link was faster; diving to the ground, he executed a perfect roll on the foggy, ethereal floor, hopping to his feet just behind his only-now recovering adversary and held his blade up to his neck.

“Ha!” Link gasped, winded. “Got you!”

The skeletal warrior nodded in approval, and Link lowered his sword.

“Excellent. You have improved remarkably. The time has come for you to awaken from your dream and pursue your heroic mantle.”

Twirling his sword, Link slid it absently into the sheath on his back and shot the Hero’s Shade a look of surprise.

“Really? You think I’m ready? But… It feels like we’ve been here for no time at all…”

“Indeed. The blessing of the Goddess Farore is no jest, and the old memories have surfaced within you quite nicely. Swordplay was not a skill you needed to learn, only remember; you have mastered the blade a thousand times and in a thousand lifetimes. The blade is every bit a part of your body as your hand or your foot.”

Link nodded thoughtfully. He was right, of course. At first, clashing swords against the spectral man had been strange and exceedingly difficult, but the more he practiced, the easier it felt, until suddenly he was executing moves and strikes he hadn’t even known were possible, understanding his opponent’s stances and openings like a seasoned warrior. It was simultaneously awesome and bizarre. Also, it just felt… good… to be skilled at something. Not that he was useless, but it was one thing to feel like he’d been born to help people, and another to realize he had the capacity to do so. And his heroic capacity had just increased tenfold.

Well, with all that said and done, maybe it was time to wake up and seize his destiny. He had an annoying little girl to look after, a name to clear, and a world to save. That, and he’d really like to get back into his regular body…

Link frowned. _Oh yeah… I’m a dog in the real world…_

Raising a hand as though he were back in Auru’s history class, Link asked hesitantly, “Uh… Hey, so… What am I supposed to do about the Master Sword? I mean, I can’t draw it. I don’t have any hands.”

He opened and closed his fists as though to demonstrate what a hand was.

"How exactly am I supposed to turn back into a human?"

“The magic that has been placed upon you is dark and powerful,” the Hero’s Shade replied in that same, echoing voice. He twirled his own sword, sheathing it on his back in the exact same manner that Link had done a moment earlier, then continued, “In order to drive it from you, powerful magic of the purest light must shine its radiance upon your flesh and purge you of its taint.”

“Uh… radiant magic. Check. And where exactly do I find something like that?”

“The Master Sword, the Blade of Evil’s Bane, possessed the power you seek. However, the power of the blade has gone from your world. Long has humanity lived without magic; magic is a force of nature, like gravity. Without its sustaining presence, much has been lost, and the world we once knew is gone…”

Worry sprouted in Link’s chest. “Wait, you’re saying that since magic is gone, the sword is broken and won’t work anymore?! But…! Then why make me go through all of this?!”

“Peace, Hero. The magic has been drained from the blade, but that does not mean it cannot be returned. In the ancient days, the Goddesses saw fit to name Sages to watch over Hyrule and keep it safe. Seven were chosen to guard the temples and watch over the Sacred Realm; these seven were the Sages of Light, Forest, Fire, Water, Shadow, Spirit, and their leader, Time. These men and women were powerful sorcerers of proud heart and keen mind, and they aided the Hero, and he aided them in return, countless times throughout the ages…”

“Ok, so I have to go find these seven Sages hiding out in their temples?” Link asked, trying valiantly to show that he was following along and hide the frustration welling up in his chest. Man, are you freaking kidding me?! That’s the fetch quest to end all fetch quests! This could take years!

“No,” the Hero’s Shade replied, and Link felt his shoulders slump in relief. “The last Sages lived centuries ago and have all long since passed away. Their sacred dwellings have fallen into ruin, and some do not even exist anymore. Your age is a perilous age indeed, Hero… I do not envy your task.”

Link quirked a brow sardonically. _His_ age was dangerous? Coming from the guy who lived in a time of dragons and skeletal zombies and men who could use magic to raze villages to the ground single-handedly? 

“Well, then what am I supposed to do if all of the Sages are dead?”

“Destiny always provides a way, Hero. Just as the Hero and Princess and Evil King are reborn to play their parts on History’s stage, so too are the Sages… Even as we speak, I can feel them slowly awakening. I have no doubt you will meet them in time.”

“Alright, so I have to go find the new Sages? That’s still going to take forever-”

Link snapped his mouth shut, mortified. He hadn’t meant to say that last bit out loud…

“Wrong, Hero. That task is not yours for the taking. The Seven Sages who watch over the Sacred Realm will be chosen and readied in their own course. No, you must find the other Sages… the two who were selected to watch over the Master Sword… the Sages of Wind and Earth. Find them, and they shall possess the ability to return the Master Sword to its original state and its power to repel evil, and by doing so, return you to your human body.”

Link hesitated a moment before opening his mouth again. “So… I have to find two Sages…?”

“Yes.”

“Yes! Ok, whew! Yeah, that’s better than seven, I can accept that. Um… Any idea where I can find them?”

“Unfortunately, I do not know where the new Sages currently linger,” The Hero’s Shade intoned bluntly, and Link felt his shoulder’s slump once more, “…However, I do know that you know them. Destiny will have brought them close to you. And wherever they are, they will in some way be associated with the sacred instruments of their station; the harp and the violin. It is with these instruments that they must pray to the Goddesses to restore power to your sword.”

Link blinked. “The harp and violin? Who do I know who plays the…?”

And then it hit him, and he smiled.

“You know who you must seek?’

“Yeah, and better yet, I know where they are. And they’re probably together.”

“Excellent. Then it is here I must leave you, Hero.”

The two squared off, sizing each other up before the Hero's Shade performed a stiff, formal bow.

Link blinked, surprised, and returned the gesture, feeling strangely touched.

"In life, I could not pass on the skills of the Hero… at last, I have eased my regrets. May the way of the Hero lead to the Triforce! …Farewell."

The world grew white, the Hero’s Shade vanished, and when Link next opened his eyes, he was a wolf again.

Sighing, Link climbed to his feet and shook his head, shaking the leaves and dirt off his fur. Well, that was that, he supposed. It was a little odd; he sort of missed the Hero’s Shade, and yet… he was the Hero’s Shade reincarnated. So he missed himself? Man, his life was weird…

It was still dark out, but he could see the sun starting to rise, meaning it was maybe four or five in the morning. He didn’t think the Grove would open until nine or ten, but maybe he and Tatl should get a move on anyway…

Link started; when he’d glanced to his left towards where he’d last seen her before the Hero’s Shade had taken him off to train, she wasn’t there. The grove was silent and empty, and panic seized his heart.

Only, when he turned to race off and go looking for her, his back paw stepped on something soft and he heard a disgruntled moan come from behind him.

Whirling around, Link was met with the sight of Tatl’s slight form curled up in a ball on the hard, cold ground right beside where he’d been laying. A gust of wind blew by, rustling his fur and tugging at her golden hair, making her frown and shiver.

Link’s heart melted. She must have laid down next to him looking for warmth while he was training and fallen asleep… It _was_ rather chilly out. The poor kid must be exhausted, what with running around all night, dealing with skeletons and sentient wolves and breaking into national monuments…

Glancing around him, Link made his decision and curled up on the floor, wrapping his long, fuzzy body around the sleeping girl protectively, shielding her from the wind. They still had a few hours before the sun came up, might as well let her rest while he could. He could use a break as well. After all, it’s not like anyone was waiting on him…

Tatl shifted, unconsciously snuggling closer into his side, and Link shook his head ruefully, letting his eyes slide closed.

You know… She might be a brat, but she’s not so bad when she actually manages to shut up…

And with that last amusing thought, Link Hero drifted off to sleep.

 


	12. To Make a Stand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woof. I am so sorry - I didn't realize until right now that I forgot to update both yesterday and today's chapters. So much for uploading every day. 
> 
> Nothing went wrong, I'm not behind or anything. I honestly just... forgot. Sorry about that.
> 
> I'll go ahead and post both right now, and we'll return to my every-morning updates tomorrow.

The wind funnel ended and Midna pitched forward, arms spastically wind-milling as she fought to keep her balance.

At her side, Groose toppled to his knees, arms still flung up over his head as if they'd shelter him from falling chunks of the moon. Her heart was thundering in her chest, but as her eyes frantically darted around the square she saw no immediate signs of danger. Just the bustle of the morning crowd, the soft yapping of a passing dog, and the gentle breeze against her sweaty skin.

They’d gone back in time once more. The song had worked again. The world wasn’t over.

Something like a half-relieved, half-hysterical giggle erupted from her mouth before she grimaced, overwhelmed with a sudden surge of revulsion. She closed her eyes and saw the city before her, the darkness of the night illuminated by flaming meteors raining down from the heavens, people screaming, buildings collapsing, the quaking of the earth and the howl of the wind…

 _Oh, Goddesses…_ she groaned internally, fighting down the urge to vomit. She'd thought that the nightmare that was the Ordon High Massacre would be the single most horrifying thing she'd ever live through, that nothing else she'd see or experience in her life could ever compare to the sheer amount of nightmare fuel that day had provided for her and her classmates. 

She had been wrong.

There was a thud, and she opened her eyes again to see that Groose had collapsed onto the floor on all-fours. His head was hung low, hair brushing the ground, and his entire frame was trembling in a way she’d never seen before. She’d seen Groose haughty, seen him mad, seen him happy, seen him frightened... But never in her wildest dreams did she ever imagine she’d one day see him broken.

“I-I killed them…” he gasped, his arm spasming on the ground.

“Oh Goddesses, Groose, no-“

“I did! I killed them!” He insisted adamantly, voice three octaves higher than usual. “It was my plan! My bomb! M-my fault! I… I…”

His entire body shuddered, and he let out a great choking breath.

Was he… _Was Groose crying?!_ Groose, the jock, the imbecile, the quintessential jerk? The single most self-centered person she’d ever had the displeasure of knowing was on his hands and knees, crying his eyes out because he couldn’t help some people?

Had… Had she misjudged him?

 “Groose, listen to me.” She murmured gently, dropping the book at her knees and placing her other arm around his back, squeezing his shoulders in a way that she hoped was comforting and supportive. “You didn’t destroy the city. No, stop, listen to me! You didn’t do it- the moon did. This is all that masked boy’s fault. You didn’t do anything wrong. I played the song, we went back in time, and we have another chance, ok? We can still save them…”

“Can we?” he croaked, and Midna sighed.

“Of course we can.” She chided softly. “We just need to… try again…”

All was quiet between them for a painful moment as the impossibility of their situation bore down upon them from overhead.

Finally, Groose was the one to break the silence. Pushing himself to his feet, he offered her a hand to help her up and asked, “So, you find anything out in that book of yours?”

Midna accepted his hand gracefully and let him pull her to her feet. Her legs were still a little unsteady, though that might just be because she was hungry. She hesitated before answering his question though; ashamed as she was to admit it, Groose wasn’t the only one whose plan had failed.

“…No, I didn’t find anything.” She finally muttered, averting her gaze and staring off into the crowds. She was careful not to make eye contact with Groose so as to not see his disappointment, but she still saw his shoulders slump out of the corner of her eye. “It’s infuriating… I keep feeling like there’s something we’re missing, but I can’t think of what it might be. I mean, there’s got to be a way to save the city. The masked kid wouldn’t have given us this test if it was impossible, right?”

Groose shrugged. “Maybe if you were the Hero of Time… The longer we’re here, the more I start to think that guy could do anything. Kinda makes you wish he were here instead, huh?”

Midna frowned but didn't respond. The Hero of Time… Sure, he could probably do it. If he even existed, that is. Might as well ask for Superman while you were at it.

Then again… if magic was real… and if this test was about the Hero… then did that mean he was real as well? As much as all the rest of the legends? Then… where was he? What was he doing? Why wasn’t he here, rescuing people and doing what heroes were supposed to be doing? Why were they filling in for him?

She abandoned that train of thought. Wishing someone else was there to help wasn’t getting them any closer to the finish.

“Look, there has to be something we can do. Think, Groose! What haven’t we tried yet?”

“Don’t look at me!” He exclaimed bitterly, throwing his hands up into the air. “We tried my plan. It failed. We’re goin’ with your plan.”

“My plan failed too!” She shouted angrily, “My plan was to read a book and hope there was an answer inside it, but guess what? There’s nothing in this book! It’s completely useless! Oh sure, it _talks_ about magic, but it’s not like there’s a chapter on what to do if some sociopath rigs the moon to fall on top of you! What is the point of all this?! Why did he bring us here?! It’s just so- ARRGH!!!”

She spun around and kicked the heavy wooden clock tower door, then let out a painful shout and began hopping around on one foot.

“I. Hate. This. Place!” She screamed, causing a few passers-by to turn and stare at them warily.

“Well… Hey.” Groose said, scratching the back of his head absently as Midna fell to the floor and began nursing her injured toe. “My plan didn’t work. And your plan didn’t work. Maybe… maybe the reason we keep failing is because we’re not working together.”

“Do what now?” she asked, glancing up at him through the bangs that had slipped out of her hair tie and were now splayed across her sweaty forehead.

“I mean…” He sat down across from her, brows furrowed in concentration, as though he were struggling to put the words together. “It’s like… the masked kid put us both in here, right? Told us we had to solve some kind of test about bein’ a Hero or whatever, right? Well, maybe he didn’t just chuck us both in here randomly. Maybe we got this test because we’re the only ones who can do it. But if it’s both of our test, then… that means we have to work together to solve it.”

Midna stared at him blankly as his expression brightened, finally working his way through his thought.

“Well, that sounds just lovely, Groose, but that still doesn’t help us at all.”

“We just gotta combine our strengths and we’ve got this in the bag!” He exclaimed, suddenly animated, and he punched his fist into his palm for emphasis.

She was glad he was out of his slump; regular Groose was annoying, but a distraught Groose honestly scared her. That didn’t mean she shared his enthusiasm, however. “Combine our strengths? What strengths?”

He shrugged. “Well, y’know… I’m good at buildin’ things I guess. Maybe that can help us out?”

She twisted her lips wryly. “Yeah, doubt it. No offense, but I don’t think wooden constructs are gonna protect us from the moon. Though you are pretty good with people… I mean, you somehow managed to befriend the entire town in a matter of minutes. Most people I talk to seem to hate me.”

“Well, you are pretty scary.” He conceded, before catching her eye and blanching at the death look she was sending him.

“And in case you haven’t noticed,” she continued, ignoring his jab at her demeanor, “I haven’t got any. Talents, that is.”

“That’s not true.” He cut in, shaking his head. “You’re smart. You figured out this whole book thingy, and you’ve been studying all about magic and junk, right?”

She snorted. "Sure. I read a stupid book: a whole lot of stupid information that has nothing to do with us being here. Just stuff about the creation of the world, the Golden Goddesses, the Triforce, blah blah blah… It mentions the Hero of Time like fifty times but doesn't tell us why we're here doing his dirty work. And the rest of it just talks about magic, like I said before. In the least helpful way possible, too. Apparently, anything can be magical. Magic pots, magic shoes, magic masks, magic underwear-"

Groose let out a gasp so loud it would have put soap opera stars to shame.

“Midna… Midna, I figured it out, I know what to do!”

“You do?” She asked, bewildered. “I swear, if you say anything about magic underwear-“

“No, not that! You said-! The mask! Masks! That’s the answer! A magic mask! Why didn’t we see it before?!”

Midna stared at Groose’s face, nonplussed. “You lost me, sport.”

“Remember yesterday? Er… well, not yesterday exactly, more like… I dunno, before? Whatever. When we were in the Astronomy dude’s house. We were talkin’ about the moon fallin’ down, and he was all, ‘yeah, masks are magical, and I have this one that…’ Well, somethin’ like that, anyway, he said he had a magic mask that can turn you into a giant! Midna, that’s the answer!”

“Whoa! Whoa whoa whoa, Groose, hold on a second!” Midna cried, scrambling to her feet as Groose made as though to take off running through the thoroughfare, eager to put his plan into action.

“What?” He gasped, looking both confused and delighted, like a child on Christmas morning being told he had to wait to open his presents.

“We can’t just… I mean, how do you even know his mask is actually magical? What if it doesn’t work? And why do you think he’ll give it to you?”

“If it doesn’t work, you’ll just turn back the clock again!” He panted impatiently. “And we’ll have to figure out some way to get it. Come on, stop wasting time! We can do this!”

Midna stared at him for a moment, making up her mind. Was the plan going to work? She had no idea. Odds were, everything was going to blow up in their faces, just like the last two times. Still… they had to try something. At least now they had something to do rather than just sit on the floor in front of the clock tower and sulk. There was at least that to be grateful for.

“Alright, alright, let’s go…” She muttered, securing the bag over her shoulder and readjusting the sweater around her waist as Groose let out a celebratory cheer, and the two set off through the town once again.

They threaded their way through the throng of faux-cheery carnival goers, smiles bright, bags under their eyes as they pretended death wasn’t hovering over them. Midna ignored the depressing scene as best she could, keeping her eyes firmly locked onto Groose’s back. Maybe this crazy mask thing was a dead end, and maybe it wasn’t. Regardless, they would succeed this time, whatever it took. She would make sure of it.

The duo made a beeline straight for the alleyway that led to the Bomber's Secret Hideout- and to the Astral Observatory.

As predicted, a boy with an orange bandana stood blocking their way.

“Scram! This is the Bomber’s Secret Society of Justice Forever’s Secret Hideout! No one allowed in without the-!”

“Five, three, one, two, four.” Midna cut in impassively. “Move it, kid.”

They left the little boy gaping behind them.

The trek through the sewers was just as smelly as it was last time, but before long they were scrambling up the ladder and into the Astronomy Tower.

"I still think this place is weird," Midna commented, examining the scarecrow with mild interest.

“Tch. You’re one to talk.”

“What is that supposed to mean?!”

“Boys?” Called an elderly voice from overhead, followed by the thump of approaching footsteps. “Boys, is that you? A little early for a visit, isn’t it? Did you need something? I’m afraid I haven’t got any-“

The elderly astronomer descended the steps of the old wooden staircase, thin pale ankles barely visible beneath his thick blue robe as he went, until he was finally low enough to poke his head down and gaze in perplexity at his visitors.

“My goodness-! Well, who might you young people be? Friends of the Bombers?" he asked, politely quizzical expression across his wrinkled visage. 

“Who’re we?” Groose guffawed incredulously. “Come on, old man, it’s me! It’s Gro- urk!”

He cut off with a grunt as Midna’s elbow connected with his midsection.

“He hasn’t met us yet, remember?” she hissed violently in his ear, and he turned and shot her a murderous look.

“Sorry, I forgot… you didn’t have to hit me though…”

“Uh, I’m sorry, sir!” Midna said in a faux-sweet voice, flashing an uncharacteristically charming smile up at the man, feeling as though her cheeks might break from the unusual way she was moving her face. “We, uh, we are friends of the Bombers, actually. You were right. And they, um… They told us you might be able to help us out.”

Gods, keeping this up was difficult! How did Marin manage to be so happy all the time?! Midna could barely last seven seconds!

“Well, I’ll certainly try!” The man replied earnestly, grasping the handrail beside him and shuffling his way down the rest of the staircase. “What was it the two of you needed, hmm?”

Midna shot Groose a fervent look, commanding him to take over. She needed a break.

“Oh, uh, well… We, er, we were lookin’ for something, and those kids told us you might, uh, know what it is we were, um… lookin’ for.”

“Looking for something, you say?” the man asked curiously as he reached the bottom step, turning his gaze back to his visitors. “Whatever could it be?”

“Well, we were lookin’ for a mask they said you might have… A mask that’s supposed to be able to turn somebody into a giant.”

Midna cursed silently; she knew they should have gone with a subtler approach. The moment Groose said the word ‘mask’, she’d seen a distinctly sneaky gleam enter his eyes, and he was watching them now with the air of one who was looking to make a deal.

“I see… Yes, you are referring to the Giant’s Mask… A most curious relic, that. Said to have been handed down for generations through the long-dead royal line of Ikana… Powerful magics are said to be wrought upon it… Magics sufficient to turn one into one of the fabled giants of lore, if legend is to be believed…”

“Uh… cool.” Midna said, deciding that, while Groose may be the people person, she was still the intelligent one, and getting the mask from this man was probably going to be more difficult than impressing him with math had been.

“Listen, sir, we really need that mask. We think it may be the key to saving the city from-“

“Oh, I don’t think I could ever just give such a thing away.” The old man chuckled lightly, turning away from them and moving as though to return to the staircase.

“But…!” Midna said, indignant. “But…! That mask could be the key to saving the world! You’d rather die than give it to us?!”

The man cast them a shrewd look over his retreating shoulder. “Sensationalist claims will get you nowhere, my dear-“

“ _Sensationalist claims?!_ I don’t believe this! You _agreed_ with us-!”

“-how am I to know you won’t simply steal my great treasure and run away with it? Where is my insurance? What am I to receive in return?”

“You mean other than _salvation?!_ ” Midna cried, enraged.

The old man shrugged. “Perhaps you do think this will save the world, or perhaps you two are merely thieves, looking to profit from what seems to be the world’s end. I do not know. What I do know, however, is that if you are not willing to give me something in return, then I have nothing else to say to you. Good day.”

Midna’s jaw worked furiously, but no sound came out. She could not believe this! This grouchy old coot was willing to let himself and the entire city die rather than give up a mask that, if they were lying about using it to save the world, would just end up destroyed alongside him?! It was so utterly nonsensical, it made her brain hurt!

As he reached the stairs, Groose spoke up.

“Hey, old man, hold up!”

He turned to Groose slyly.

“Yes, son?”

“Well… uh… What do you want for the mask?”

“Groose!” Midna shouted, irate that he was playing into the greedy old fart’s game.

“What?” he shot back, impatient. “Who cares, we need that mask, no matter what! Let’s just hear him out!”

“Smart young man.” The astronomer grinned, and Midna seethed. “What I desire in exchange for the Giant’s Mask… is another mask.”

“Ok, cool!” Groose exclaimed, punching his fist. “Another mask. I’ll just run out to the market real quick and-“

“Calm yourself, young man.” The astronomer said, cutting Groose off with a raised hand. “Not just any old mask will do. You see, here in this land, there are many fabled masks… with many strange powers… If you wish to have my Giant’s Mask, I require that you procure a mask of equal value in exchange. It is a mask I have desired for a long, long time now… Known as the All-Night’s Mask. A legendary mask, which, when worn, will keep the user awake… forever…”

Midna and Groose exchanged looks.

“Why would you want-?”

“Where are we supposed to find-?”

He waved down their questions impatiently. "The mask is in the possession of a local shopkeeper; he runs a seedy business on the west side of town known as the Curiosity Shop. I have tried several times, but he refuses to sell to me. As for why, because I am old, and because study of the stars is a job that must be performed late into the night. Enough questions- do we have a deal?"

Before she could say as much, however, Groose accepted the challenge and shook the man’s hand.

“Alright, old man. See you in a bit!”

The man smiled mischievously and bowed the teens away as they descended the ladder.

When they touched back on the grimy sewer floor, Midna wasted no time punching Groose straight in the arm.

“Ow!”

“What is _wrong_ with you?!” she hissed venomously, “Why did you agree to that?! Can’t you tell this is a trick? Getting that All-Night’s Mask is going to be impossible, and you know it!”

“Well, we gotta go check, don’t we?” Groose replied, rubbing his tricep. “I mean yeah, it’s gonna be tough, but what else do we have to do?”

Midna opened her mouth hotly to respond, but no words came to her. He had a point, after all; there was nothing else for them to do. Still, the situation was ludicrous at best, and there was no way this was going to work. Rather than concede to Groose’s point, however, she instead chose to glower and cross her arms tightly across her chest.

“Whatever.” She snapped, glaring at the chalk-drawn walls around her as she stalked on ahead, silently willing her impotent rage to funnel into them.

They emerged back into the sunlight and took deep, relieved breaths of fresh air. The moon engulfed the sky overhead, dark and ominous against the bright blue that surrounded it, a constant reminder of the task at hand and the inevitability of their impending failure.

“Come on,” Groose muttered. “West Clock Town is this way…”

West Clock Town was the part of town they had least-visited in their time loop, the only time they'd passed through being on the first night when they'd tried to convince the townspeople to abandon the city and failed miserably. The western portion of town was filled with stalls and shops, much like the eastern section, only there were many more narrow alleyways and far less wide-open spaces. The farther into the town they traveled, the dirtier and grungier the surroundings became. They had to stop and ask some of the passers-by directions, but it seemed that was enough.

Eventually, they found themselves in front of a stooped doorway in a seedy little back alley at the very edge of the town wall.

Midna and Groose exchanged looks.

"Hey, this is your vendetta," Midna said simply, throwing her hands in the air. "You can do the talking."

He sighed, looking very much as though he were regretting his decision to push the mask deal, before steeling himself and knocking on the door.

The response was immediate: “Go away, we’re closed!”

“We just need to talk to you for a second!” Groose hollered back, looking uncertain.

“Come back when we’re open then!” came the muffled response.

“Well, when will that be?”

“Tonight!”

Groose looked deflated, but Midna shoved him out of the way, grasping the door handle.

“We don’t have time for this.” She grumbled, shouldering the door open and stomping into the building.

The room was small and darkly lit, absolutely cluttered with knick-knacks and oddities of every sort and variety imaginable. Clocks, vases, paintings, weapons, clothing, figurines, tools, toys, furniture, books, you name it, he had it, and it was more than likely covered in dust. A narrow walkway existed between teetering piles of junk, and stretched from the doorway to the counter, behind which stood a pot-bellied, balding man in his late forties, who sneered at the intruders behind a pair of dark glasses.

“Ya know, I could have you two arrested for that. Trespassing is an offense I take very seriously. I kid you not.”

“Right.” Midna drawled languidly, sauntering up to the counter and leaning against it, facing the man through the thick iron bars that separated the merchant from his ill-willed customers. “But for some reason, I get the feeling the town guards wouldn’t be so interested in _who_ you have in here as much as _what_ you have in here…”

The shop owner stilled and his eyes narrowed, his fingers no longer messing with the gears of some strange machine on his counter.

“Listen, kid,” the man spat, closing the machine he’d been tinkering with and shoving it to the side. “I don’t know what you want and I ain’t interested. My shop opens after dark. You wanna talk to me, you come in then, alright? Now clear out.”

“Look,” Groose cut in, placing a firm hand on Midna’s shoulder before she tried to claw the man’s face off through the bars. “We know this ain’t the best time, but we’re sorta in a hurry. There’s a man who has somethin’ we need, but he won’t give it to us unless we give him somethin’ else first. We need it real bad, before midnight, so you see… We need you to give us the All-Night’s Mask.”

Midna half expected the man to deny owning it, but he didn't. Instead, he leaned back, crossed his arms, and poked his tongue into his cheek, examining them curiously. After a moment, he said, "This is for that old coot up in the astronomy tower, ain't it? That geezer's been hounding me about this mask for months now, but I won't trade it, not to the likes of him. Don't like him much, see? Never thought he had anything worth trading for… What does he have that's worth my mask?"

Groose answered before Midna could stop him.

“He calls it the Giant’s Mask, from some dead royal line. It’s supposed to make you turn into a giant or something.”

A familiar greedy gleam entered the balding shopkeeper’s eye.

“Yes,” Midna cut in hastily, “and we think it’s the key to stopping the moon from falling. So you see, if you give us the All-Night’s Mask, we can get the Giant’s Mask and save the city. If you don’t, then we’ll all die.”

He ran his tongue across his yellowed teeth, considering them.

“Alright kids, here’s the deal.” The man replied, tossing a rag down on the counter. “I like you two. And I can appreciate the value of a noble crusade such as this. I’ll give you my mask.”

“Really?!” Groose exclaimed, looking delighted.

“Yes,” he answered, adjusting his glasses carefully, “…for a price.”

“I knew it…” Midna sighed, rubbing her temples.

“We, uh… We don’t have any money.” Groose answered, looking sheepish.

"Well, then you're gonna have to give me something else in exchange," the man replied simply. "I'm a businessman, you see. I deal in exotic curios, the sorts of rare, uncommon things that you don't see every day. A mask like mine will need to be traded for something equally valuable."

Groose looked confused. “Like what?”

A grin flashed across the shopkeeper's face. "I'm glad you asked. As it just so happens, I have a buyer looking into a lovely collection of cow figurines that I possess. As a whole, the collection is worth more than the mask, however… I'm missing just one piece. Fortunately, there's a girl in town who owns the bit I'm looking for. Unfortunately, due to the nature of my, ah… occupation… I haven't been able to make her an offer."

"Oh, Goddesses…" Midna groaned, sinking forward against the counter. "Not again…"

“Uh…” Groose paused, scratching at the side of his head. “So… You want us to get you this cow… thing?”

“Exactly. You get me the cow, I give you the mask. Sounds easy enough, right?”

“I guess…?” Groose responded. Midna shot him a dark look. It was never as easy as it looked.

“Good. Now hurry up and get outta my store, I’ve got inventory I need to do and I ain’t a babysitter.”

They exited the store and shut the door behind them, leaving them alone in the narrow, twisty alleyway of West Clock Town.

Groose sunk against a wall.

“Well… I guess that didn’t work.”

“You see?!” Midna shouted angrily, “You see?! I told you this was going to happen! This is ridiculous! Why do they have to make things so difficult?!”

“Yeah…” Groose agreed, looking defeated. “I guess that’s the end of that then…”

Midna let out a deep sigh. "No…. No, it isn't." She admitted reluctantly. "I think I know who owns the stupid cow figurine."

“You do?!” Groose gawked, looking startled. “I- but- how-?”

"Well, he said she worked somewhere he couldn't go… I get the feeling that a lot of what he does isn't exactly lawful, which means that he's probably talking about someone who works close to the law, and… I remember that the secretary of the Mayor's office had a cow bobblehead on her desk."

Groose looked amazed. “Midna, that’s it! You’re amazing!”

He let out a delighted laugh and punched the air. “Aw yeah, this ain’t over yet! We’ve got this in the bag!”

Midna decided to let him have his moment. If the rest of this day was of any indication, this was not going to be easy at all.

And she was right. Irene the secretary was a ditz, but she understood well enough that they wanted her bobblehead. She, however, was reluctant to let it out of her hands.

“Please, this was a gift from my _mother_ ,” she said, shooting the teens a scathing look. “Ugh, you sound just like my sister Maple. She wants my cow figurine too, but was she willing to give me that autographed photo of Jappas in exchange?! No!”

"Ok, ok…" Midna sighed. "If we get you that photo, we can have the bobblehead? Cool."

Only it was not cool.

“Like, what?!” Maple exclaimed over the counter of a carnival game she was hosting. “Irene wants my photo of Jappas?! No way! He’s like, totally the hottest member of the Indigo-go’s! He’s a dreamboat! Well… you’re not so bad on the eyes either, tiger.”

She shot Groose a wink that made him grin in a way that made Midna want to vomit.

“I do so like a large man…”

“Well, what if we got you a real man instead of just a picture of one?” Midna offered, casting her mind about wildly for a solution to the problem.

Maple squealed. “A real man? You mean like a… a date?! Ooooh, yes! A date for the carnival tonight! That sounds wonderful! How about it, big guy, you looking for a party?”

Groose looked more than ready for a party, only Midna didn’t have time to wait for the carnival that night to get the photo, so the two promised Maple they’d hook her up with the burliest, manliest man around.

“You want me to do what?” Mack the carpenter asked bluntly, his face clearly showing that he was not at all impressed with the way this conversation was going. The rest of his crew had gathered behind him looking sweaty and curious.

“Oh come on, Mack!” Groose pleaded desperately. “She’s not half bad looking at all! And it’ll be really good for the town!”

“In what way?” asked Mack, looking baffled.

“So we can get the photo to get the cow to get the mask to get-“

“Do you want to be single all your life?!” Midna exploded, patience very nearly at the breaking point.

Mack looked startled, and then surprisingly ashamed.

“…No, mom- I mean, ma’am.”

“Well then, go home, get yourself cleaned up, and get out there on your date!”

“But-! But-!” Mack stammered, face going red. “I haven’t been on a date in years! What if I screw it up? What if I embarrass myself?!”

Groose clapped a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Sometimes, you have to put your heart on the line for a chance at true love.”

Midna stared, but Mack’s eyes seemed to fill with tears.

"Y-you're right, son… I gotta try… whew… ok… ok… Oh, gods, I need a drink… Tell you what, you get me a drink- something stiff; Chateau Romani, the good stuff- and I'll go on your date. You can pick some up at a local store."

“Chateau Romani?” The woman mused, giving the breathless teens a bored look. “And this is for Mack you say?”

“Is that a problem?” Midna gasped, clutching at the stitch in her side.

“No, no… I just wanted to make sure. And you have no money? Right. Well, I need a little favor in return… Find me something I can use as a scarecrow for my garden, and I’ll give you a bottle. Sound good?”

Midna could have screamed. A scarecrow? Yes, she’d seen a scarecrow… right where they’d started this stupid quest in the first place!

Looking back, Midna didn’t regret stealing the scarecrow from the astronomer one bit. After all, if he hadn’t been such a greedy old miser, none of this would have happened in the first place. Really, he had no one to blame but himself.

They snuck in and out of his tower without making a sound, uprooting the scarecrow from its pouch of radish-growing soil and racing with it through the sewers.

They presented the now somewhat smelly lawn decoration to the shopkeeper, who gave it an audible sniff before shaking her head and handing over a bottle of pale and frothy alcohol that smelled of oddly of milk.

 “Oh, good,” Mack gasped, looking pale-faced and shaky as he answered his door, half-dressed in a much nicer outfit than he’d had on while performing construction duty. He swiped the bottle, popped the cork, and took a massive swig. “That’s the stuff… whoo… ok, alright. Tell your girl I’ll meet her by the bench in South Clock Town around eight, ok?”

“Oooh, you found me a date?!” Maple squealed excitedly, and as she began demanding to know who he was and what he looked like, Midna stole the photo from off the wall and stormed off, ignoring the girl’s continued questions. Her head was starting to throb dangerously…

"Yes!" Irene cried in triumph, snatching the photo and holding up to the torchlight. "Finally, the photo is all mine! And one day, Jappas will be all mine too…" They'd managed to catch Irene just as she was about to lock up the door to the mayor's office for the night. As she stood in the doorway, swooning over the photo, Midna stalked into the building, snatched the cow from off the desk, and left, barely pausing to wait to see if Groose was following.

She didn't bother knocking on the door of the Curiosity Shop this time. Opening it and storming inside, she brushed past the piles of junk and stormed up to the counter, feeling murderous.

“Here’s your stupid cow,” she spat, slamming the figure on the counter and glaring daggers at the surprised man behind it. “Now give me the dumb mask so we can be on our way.”

The man looked taken aback. He gingerly lifted the cow from off the counter, examined it for moment, turned it upside down, shook it, and finally looked satisfied.

“Yes, yes, well… A deal is a deal. Here you are.”

He stooped down and drew a black velvet box out from beneath the counter, removed the lid, and revealed a pitch-black mask with pointed ears and grills where the mouth should be. It almost looked like some sort of bondage torture device; were she in a better mood, she’d accuse the astronomer of getting kinky.

“Is that the-?” Groose began asking in a reverent whisper, looking awed.

“Yeah, thanks, whatever, bye.” Midna cut him off, snatching up the mask and stomping out of the room and back into the night. The moon was looming dangerously close overhead and the ground was quaking with increasing ferocity. They had a couple of hours… which meant a couple of minutes. They didn’t have time to bandy their words.

“Midna!” Groose gasped, finally catching up to her as they exited West Clock Town and hurried towards the Astronomer’s tower, pushing through gathering crowds of Carnival goers. “Midna! Slow down! What’s up?”

“We don’t have time to slow down, Groose!” Midna snapped, irritated, weaving through the dense clusters of tourists and townsfolk, desperate to get away from the loud murmurings of the crowd; her head was thundering enough as it was, she didn’t need the added stimulus. “That moon is going to crash down in no time! We need to hurry up and get to the Astronomy Tower!”

“Midna-“

“What?!” she exploded, whirling around and all but snarling at her unfortunate companion like a feral hound, “What is it?! What do you want?!”

“You, uh… You’re heading in the wrong direction…”

She opened and closed her mouth a couple of times before turning around and examining her surroundings. He was right… She’d passed the alley that led to the Astronomy tower, not having noticed because the boy in the orange bandana was no longer at his station, probably out celebrating on the streets or else curled up in his den with the rest of his friends, drawing with their new chalk.

Embarrassment attempted to well up inside her, but she was honestly too exhausted to pay it any mind. Instead, she leaned up against a lantern-lit stall selling hotcakes and beverages and took several deep breaths. She felt worn out, like butter that had been spread too thin over a piece of toast. Where had that analogy come from? Probably her stomach, she was starving…

“You ok?” Groose asked nervously, stepping closer to her to avoid the foot traffic of the nearby pedestrians.

Midna nodded wordlessly, eyes closed.

“You sure?”

Mild irritation sprang up at his insistence, but she decided not to start a fight.

“I’m just tired… My head is killing me, and I’m exhausted from everything we just went through. Sorry for snapping at you, I just… I’m just really stressed out…”

He chuckled. “Nah, I get it. Here, this might help.”

She opened her eyes and saw him offering her a hotcake and a jug of some sort of liquid.

“How did you-?”

“I swiped it.” He admittedly, looking abashed. “Look, before you start, I know it’s wrong but-“

She unstoppered the jug and took a deep swig. It was some sort of juice; tangy, and a little sour, but immensely satisfying. She then attacked the pastry with ravenous intensity.

“I don’ care,” she mumbled around a mouthful of food, “’bout stealin’ ‘ood.” She swallowed noisily, “I mean, we’re trying to save their lives. They owe us whether they realize it or not.”

Groose smirked back at her, mouth full of some sort of meat pie which he struggled to swallow down. She offered him the jug of juice which he accepted gratefully.

“True. Besides, if we mess up again and you have to go back in time, everything will go back to the way it was and nobody will ever know.”

The two shared an evil grin before swiping a few more bits of food and another jug off the cart and hurrying back to the alley that led to the Bomber’s hideout.

“Feel better?” Groose asked after a few minutes of intense pigging-out.

“Actually,” Midna said, taking one last swig and stowing the half-empty jug in her bag, now bulging with a heavy book, an ocarina, and a magical mask already stored inside. “Yeah, I really do.”

“It happens to me sometimes.” Groose replied absently, brushing crumbs off his rugby jersey, “I get headaches at practice when I run around a lot and get dehydrated, or I haven’t eaten enough. I get real irritable too. My ma calls it the hunger grumps.”

She stopped herself from teasing the name. Barely.

“Well, thanks.” She replied as they reached the ladder that led down to the sewers. “But it wasn’t just that. I just… don’t have a lot of patience dealing with people, I guess, and everything that happened today just kinda pissed me off.”

Groose grinned. “What, you don’t like runnin’ around like a headless chicken doin’ chores for people?”

"No," she said, tone flat. "I don't even like _talking_ to people. Even being around people is enough to try my patience. I guess we’re just totally opposite in that regard. You’re like a people magnet. People seem to love you… you know, when you’re not being a total idiot.”

“Thanks?” he responded, looking both embarrassed and confused.

Midna also felt a little awkward. She just came awfully close to complimenting Groose, and it made her feel very uncomfortable.

“Whatever, let’s just get this over with.”

“I hear that.”

They descended the ladder once again and began their trek through the sewers. The Bombers were nowhere to be seen. They must be topside, celebrating the carnival or else trembling in fear inside their houses with their families…

"Well, this is it," Groose commented idly as they drew close to the ladder that led to the astronomer's home. They exchanged significant glances, then Groose ushered Midna to go first. She complied, feeling oddly nervous.

She entered the tower, only to find the Astronomer tending to his radish garden.

“Oh, hello young ones.” The man commented absently, “Would you look at this? It would seem someone has stolen my scarecrow… if I didn’t know any better, I’d say those Bomber’s had played a nasty prank on me, but they’re normally such good boys-“

“Forget the scarecrow, old man,” Midna cut in. “We have what you asked for.”

The elderly scientist looked up at her blankly. From within the folds of her bag, she withdrew the black All-Night’s Mask, and understanding blossomed across his face.

“Well well…” he breathed, sitting up but not moving. “I can’t believe it… you actually got the mask… However did you convince him-?”

“Look, does it matter?” Midna snapped impatiently as the ground gave another mighty tremor. “A deal is a deal. Are you going to give us the Giant’s Mask or not?”

The man stared at her for a long moment, face unreadable, before slowly climbing to his feet.

“I suppose I must, hmm?” He commented softly, shuffling towards a chest in the corner of the room and drawing a set of keys from his pocket. “I did make a promise, after all… And in the end, I suppose it also does not matter whether I lose this mask or not. Soon the world will end, I and the mask along with it… There is no harm in giving it to you…”

From within the chest, he drew it forth, a slate grey mask of crude design, fashioned in the shape of a mask one would use when welding. The uppermost portion curved and covered a part of the head, and the part that covered the mouth looked almost as if it had a grill for you to talk through. The eye slits were narrow and sunken into two circular divots in the mask's face. All in all, it looked like a face a statue might wear if it had been left in a desert for hundreds of years and had lost almost all its features.

"Thanks," Midna said, snatching the mask from the man's outstretched hand before he could rethink his decision and placing the All-Night's Mask in his palm. "And don't worry, the world isn't going to end, we're here to save it."

The man offered her a watery smile. “You must forgive me, dear, but I think not… The mask you hold… It has lost its power.”

Midna, who’d been halfway back to the ladder, froze in her tracks.

“What do you mean, lost its power?” She asked, voice faint.

“Precisely what I said.” He replied, tone unusually grave. “I have owned that mask for years, and have performed countless tests upon it, seeking to awaken its magics, and yet… I never had any such luck. The mask does not work. I could not figure out why. I was wrong to offer it to you, knowing that your hope was false. Forgive me.”

Midna was frozen, ice welling up in the place her heart used to be. Please… Don’t tell her… It was all for nothing?! Again?! The mask was a dead end, just like everything else they’d tried thus far? Was there no point to this trial, no answer to be found, no victory to be had? Was everything they’d been through so far been nothing more than an exercise in futility?!

Lost in her despair, she hardly noticed the older man shuffling away, off to spend the last moments of his life in quiet solitude. Midna was trembling, hot tears of frustration and anger scorching their way down her face. She half expected Groose to try and comfort her, to say something to bring her out of her desperate reverie, but instead, he collapsed against the wall in front of her, staring down at the mask in his hands with a hollow expression.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered after a moment of silence. “I shoulda listened to you… It was all a mistake, just like last time, and the time before that… I just… Goddesses… Are we ever gonna get out of here?”

Hugging herself, not even bothered by the fact that he was seeing her cry, Midna plopped down beside him and stared at the floor, feeling spent.

"I don't know, Groose… I mean, I know I was against this from the get-go, but honestly… for a while there, I thought this was going to work. I mean, what you said made sense… about us working together and pooling our strengths and whatever… Well, it was inspirational, at least. I guess you get used to inspiring people being the captain of the rugby team."

He smiled faintly, eyes still glued to the mask. “Yeah, kinda… comes with the territory. But still, I was so sure this was the answer… Why d’you think the mask doesn’t work?”

“How should I know?” She asked, trying and failing to make it sound like a jab. She didn’t have the heart for it at the moment.

“Dunno… I guess I was just hopin’ that maybe that book of yours might’ve told you somethin’.”

Midna snorted derisively, just thinking about the book and what a massive waste of time it had been. “We’ve been over this, Groose… It just tells you what magic is, but it’s not too good at telling you how to use it, or prevent it, or stop it, or start it… Just a bunch of nonsense about believing and blah blah…”

She trailed off, looking thoughtful. It was true, the book was unhelpfully vague, but… hadn’t it worked for her before? When she pressed the ocarina to her lips and played the song, hadn’t she followed the instructions? Believed in magic, believed it would work, yearned with all her heart that the magic would pull through, and watched it come true? Could that be all that was actually lacking? The astronomer, a man of science, lacked the faith to make the magic work?

“Groose…” Midna said softly, patting the much larger boy on the knee. “Groose, get up. I want to try something.”

“What?” He asked, confused, but Midna didn’t answer. Instead, she climbed to her feet and walked towards the stairs, motioning for him to follow. They climbed up the tower, towards the den that the astronomer studied in. A massive eyepiece could be seen, presumably what the elderly man used to study the stars, but the man himself was not around. Midna ignored the telescope and instead headed towards a heavy mahogany door. Just as she hoped, when she turned the handle and pushed, it led her outside.

“Midna, what’s goin’ on?” Groose asked again sounding impatient. “Shouldn’t you be playing the song so we can give savin’ this place another shot?”

"No," Midna replied, marching across the lawn and through the gate that led to the fields outside Clock Town. The ground was shaking with greater intensity as the moon inched ever nearer. She knew they had minutes until their moment came. They needed to work quickly.

“But why-?”

“Listen,” Midna whirled around and cut him off, feeling an anxious sort of excitement building inside of her. “I was wrong, the book _did_ tell me how to fix the mask. Or rather, the mask isn’t broken; the astronomer just didn’t know how to use it.”

Groose gaped, looking astonished. “I… What? Really? You sure?”

"No," she replied, and his face fell. "But I think I'm right. See, the book says that magic isn't so much an act of knowledge as an act of faith. You need to know what you want to happen, sure, but you also need to believe that it will work, and then let your desire to see that thing come to pass fuel the magic. It's like when I play the song to send us back in time; it isn't the combination of those specific notes that makes the spell work. It's the magic that I put into them by believing they will work and letting my faith turn my desire into reality. Do you see?"

“Uh…?” Groose replied eloquently. Midna sighed.

“Look, all you have to do is put the mask on and believe that it will turn you into a giant. You have to really feel it… Want to be a giant with all of your heart.”

Groose looked doubtful. “Well… Why don’t you do it since you already know how?”

He offered the mask to her, but she didn’t take it.

“Groose, I think it’d be better if it were you. I mean, I’ll need to play the song if things go bad. And besides… you’re already bigger and stronger than me. You’ll have a better chance of driving off that moon.”

"I dunno, Mid…" Groose answered absently, and Midna noticed for the first time his usage of the shortened nickname her friends occasionally called her by. "I mean, if the astronomer couldn't do it, why would I? We're both kinda science dorks… I'm into physics, I like sports… But I'm not an idea guy. You saw what happened last time I tried to be the hero. I ruined everything. That's probably what I'm gonna end up doin' if you give me that mask…"

Frustration welled up inside Midna, but so did sympathy. It was weird; she’d never cared before, but suddenly she didn’t like seeing Groose look so down and unsure. It was almost like… they were _friends._

Ew.

"Groose, listen to me," Midna said severely as the ground gave another tremor and the distant clock tower struck eleven thirty; they had seconds. "I'm the single most cynical person I've ever even heard of, and yet I got the magic to work for me. But I only did it because I had a reason driving me, a strong motivator that helped spur my desperation and my need for the magic to work… You have one too.

“Groose, sometimes you irritate the crap out of me, but after all this nonsense we've been through together, I've been forced to admit you actually possess redeemable qualities when you're not letting your fake jock image go to your head. You're smart, you're dependable, and people love you. And right now, those people need you. It isn't just our lives on the line, it's theirs. Think about them when you put that mask on. Think about the astronomer who's given up hope, the desperate mayor, the guards who won't abandon their posts, Mack and the construction workers, the defenseless Bombers… Think about them, and let your need to save them be the fuel that powers that mask.”

There was a quiet moment as Midna stared in breathless anticipation at Groose, and Groose stared quietly at the mask in his hands. The ground trembled, and a tear leaked out of the corner of Groose’s eyes. Midna was startled; had she done that to him?

He gave a sudden watery chuckle and mumbled, “Y’know… You’d make a good rugby captain too.”

“…Thanks.” She answered, surprised and mildly touched.

“Thank you… Captain.” Groose smiled, and Midna grinned back, feeling her heart lift.

He sighed, shook out his limbs as though preparing himself for a sprint, took another deep breath, and pressed the mask up to his face.

For one horrible, heart-stopping moment Midna was sure she had been wrong and the mask was a dud. Her doubts were silenced by a loud crackling sound, and the mask sealed itself to Groose's face like a suction cup.

At once, Groose was flailing, body spasming, hands clawing at his face as though trying to tear the mask off.

“G-Groose?” Midna called hesitantly. A horrid thought occurred to her; what if the mask killed the wearer? What if he couldn’t breathe?!

She lifted a hand as though to help, but before he could move he threw his head back, and through the thick grey mask on his face she heard the unmistakable sound of a tortured scream.

“No!” She shouted, racing towards him, desperate to remove the offending object from his face, but all at once his mask flashed brightly, glowing with incredible energy, and Groose began to grow.

One moment he was human-sized. The next, he was as tall as a house. The next, Midna was scrambling backward as his left shoe threatened to crush her beneath its Leviathan-esque weight. He towered over the city walls, feet the size of buildings, and when he finally stopped growing the clock tower was level with his kneecap.

Midna stared in awe. It had worked… the mask had actually worked. Groose was a giant.

_Holy Triforce, Groose was a giant!_

“Turn around, the city is behind you!” She cried out, not knowing if he could even hear her. “Stop that moon!”

He nodded once more, then turned and immediately headed towards the town, crossing the plain in a single step and passing the wall like it was no more than a curb. A distant shriek was heard in the city as they noticed the hulking giant above them, echoed by hundreds of voices, but Midna only had attention for the moon. Any minute now, it would enter the atmosphere, and then they would have to wait and see if the plan would be enough…

It happened in an instant. Just as Groose situated himself above the clock tower, the clock struck midnight, the massive celestial rock breached the atmosphere, and the sky burned red.

If the city was screaming before, it was nothing compared to the sound of the wind shrieking in her ears now. Below her the earth heaved, knocking her to the ground, and she could see Groose struggling to keep his footing

Just when the terror of the end of the world was about to seize all rationality from her mind, she saw Groose straighten up, raise both arms, and grab the moon.

For a moment he stood there, arms overhead, looking for all the world like he was getting ready to throw the moon forward, when suddenly he staggered.

The weight of the moon, impossibly large, incredibly vast, crushed down upon him. His arms buckled, and the massive rock slammed into Groose’s shoulder as his arms flew wide, struggling to secure a better hold on the object. His entire body was trembling, and she heard what sounded like a massive grunt of pain come from beneath his mask.

A new fear bubbled up inside of her; not just for the world and herself, but for Groose. What if he couldn’t do this? What if this wasn’t the solution to their problem?

Groose sagged again, body slumping, dropping to one knee with a massive crash that shook the ground, and she saw what was the unmistakable sight of several buildings collapsing as Groose’s leg tore through them.

He was falling. He couldn’t do this. She needed to act.

As fast as she could, she stuck her hands into her bag and began frantically digging for her ocarina. Before her, Groose’s entire frame trembled beneath the might of the moon.

Trembling fingers met the cool porcelain of the instrument and she drew it out hastily, pressing the blue mouthpiece against trembling lips… and hesitated.

Groose’s muscles in his back and arms clenched. Another roar echoed from behind his mask, though there was something different about this one; it was still pained, but there was a definite note of defiance in the cry, as if he was challenging the moon to do its worst…

The wind died. The earth stopped shaking. The sky went from blazing red to blinding white. All was silent…

There was an ear-splitting crack, and the mask on Groose’s face split in two.

“NO!” Midna bellowed, shoving the ocarina in her mouth, determined to save Groose, whatever it took.

Before she could summon enough breath to play the first note, Groose heaved himself upward, and with colossal, super-human strength, hurled the moon from his shoulders, back into the sky.

The sky screamed again as the atmosphere resettled itself, the ground gave a great seizure, the air imploded, and with a resounding boom and a flash of light, Midna was blown off her feet.

When her eyes opened, all was still and silent. Pushing herself upright, entire body aching, she examined the field around her in the wake of the destruction. Branches littered the ground, torn from trees in the torrential winds. Several of the trees themselves lay on the ground, overturned by the quaking of the earth. The walls of the town bore cracks and fissures, a testament to the incredible display of power they had just witnessed.

But they lived. They all lived. The city was safe, and the moon…

Midna glanced upward and saw nothing in the sky but stars.

They had done it. They had saved the city. They won.

…Where was Groose?

In a flash, she was up off the ground and sprinting towards the city. His giant form was nowhere to be seen. Why had the mask cracked? What had happened to him when it had? What did this mean? If he was dead… if he had died…

Midna was completely out of breath by the time she reached the city, but she hardly noticed the aching in her lungs nor the fire in her legs. Guards still sat by their posts, but they were staring up at the starry sky in slack-jawed disbelief, their hands over their hearts; they didn’t notice her passing.

Midna blew through East Clock Town, ignoring the jugglers and Bombers scattered about the plaza, not noticing the mayor hugging his wife, nor Mack standing alongside a weeping Maple and Irene. None of these people mattered. All that mattered was Groose, _where was Groose_?

She burst into South Clock Town, shoving her way past the throngs of terrified people and the ruins of wooden stalls that once made up the bustling thoroughfare. Her heart was hammering in her chest, and not just because she'd just sprinted nearly a mile; she couldn't see Groose. Where was he?

And then she saw him. Standing next to a man she recognized as Rusl’s look-alike from his meeting with the Mayor, he looked as though he’d just been pulled to his feet and was staring around in stupefied disbelief.

He noticed the disturbance in the crowd, glanced in its direction, and met her eyes.

Twin grins spit across their faces.

“Midna!” he croaked, stepping forward, arms outstretched. “Midna, we did it- we won!”

She didn't have the breath to respond; instead, she half-jogged, half-walked the rest of the way forward and tackled Groose in a hug. He responded with a bark of incredulous laughter, twirling her around before setting her back down and throwing his fists in the air with a victorious bellow, "WE DID IT!"

As if waiting for his command, the people who had gathered around burst into applause mingled with joyous shouts and relieved tears as they hugged the people around them and basically descended into mayhem. Sobbing abounded, whistles and catcalls, citizens darting around calling for loved ones…

 They were alive… everyone was alive…

Groose stumbled slightly and grabbed onto the wreckage of a table, looking winded.

“Are you ok?” Midna gasped, concern crossing her face.

"Nah, I'm fine…" He panted, looking distinctly pale and sweaty. "Just a little winded… That mask took a lot out of me. Though I think I just set the world record for the deadlift…"

“Wonderful! Simply wonderful!” Came a familiar voice from off to the side.

As one, Midna and Groose turned to acknowledge the newcomer, and froze, eyes flying wide.

There, standing before them, was Mr. Happy.

Midna felt her stomach drop out. Mr. Happy, the man who so resembled the museum’s curator, the man who had given her the ocarina, the key to their victory… It was only now, seeing him again right there in front of her face, that it occurred to her that it was her first time seeing him since the first day they’d spent in the village. But that couldn’t be right… Sure, she hadn’t exactly been looking for him on her second or third trip through the groundhog loop, but he had to have been there… right? Yet try as she might, she couldn’t remember seeing him after day one…

Groose must’ve been having similar thoughts, for his brows were heavily creased, and he looked to be trying very hard to remember something.

Mr. Happy stooped down and picked something up off the floor; the broken pieces of the Giant’s Mask, which she could now see had split in a jagged crack down the middle and had fallen to the ground presumably where Groose’s body had been laying.

“Dear me…” the man mused, looking thoughtful. “The mask’s power, while great, was simply not enough to match that of Majora…”

“What was that?” Midna asked sharply, staring apprehensively at the mask salesman. How had he known that name? Majora was the name of the mask the boy in the skull shirt was wearing, the mask that had been stolen from the Museum of National History. If this Mr. Happy was just a projection, or copy of the one from reality, then how…?

“The mask lacked the strength requisite to defeat Majora. Not a surprise; it was never intended to deal with an evil so great, and yet it still performed admirably. You should be proud of yourself, young man; you did well. As did you, young lady. I suppose congratulations are in order; you have passed the mask’s test.”

Midna stood upright, ignorant to the pain gnawing at her sides. Her jaw worked frantically, finger pointed in accusation at the mask salesman’s chest.

“You…! You…! You knew? About the test? About who we are, where we come from?”

The man gave a curt nod. “Indeed I do, Miss Twili. Your initial assumption was not too far off; I am the very same Mr. Happy you knew from the museum. This world we currently reside in, it is not our own; it is but a facsimile of our reality, crafted by the demon Majora from your minds and memories, meant to test you as the Hero was once tested… But though you have overcome their trial, I’m afraid you have failed the test. You are not who they are searching for.”

“I… but…” Midna spluttered incoherently, feeling like she had a million things she needed to ask yet not a single one was coming to mind.  


“Wait, what do you mean?” Groose asked instead. “Failed? I just stopped the moon!”

Mr. Happy shook his head, omnipresent smile never once faltering.

“Yes, young man, you performed marvelously… but it would appear that Destiny has not chosen you. Do not be offended,” he added when Groose looked like he was about to interrupt, “before the Hero was ever the Hero, he was just an ordinary boy. What made him a Hero was not destiny, it was his heart. I see an echo of that greatness buried deep within the both of you. Though you may not be who they are searching for, that does not mean that you cannot serve a purpose. I fear the eyes of your enemies may be tempted to pass you over, and that may be just the advantage you need.

“Return through the doors to the clock tower, and you shall be in the museum once more. My time is short, and there is much that I cannot yet reveal… yet I can tell you this: you must seek out your ancestry, Miss Twili, and awaken who you are. You will play a key role in today’s proceedings. The journey will be rough, but always remember to have faith… Believe in yourselves…”

A light suddenly illuminated the square around them. Blinking at the suddenness of it all, Midna turned, squinting in its direction, trying to divine the source, only to see the sun peeking up from beneath the horizon. It was dawn… the dawn of a new day.

When Midna turned back to Mr. Happy, he was gone.

“What?!” She exclaimed loudly, looking around. “Whoa now! Hold up! Where did he go?!”

“I dunno…” Groose mumbled, looking dazed. “What do you think he meant?  Not who they’re looking for? Seek out your ancestry? Where are you supposed to go?”

“I have no idea…” Midna groaned, sinking down onto the ground, fishing the juice jug out of her purse and taking another swig. “This is the worst day of my life…”

“Definitely.” Groose agreed, taking the jug from her and drinking deeply. “You really have no idea what he meant?”

Midna frowned but didn't answer. If the doors led back to the museum, and her friends were still in there, then that meant…

He knew her name was Twili. It was a very common last name, actually; most of those descended from the Twili bore it, even Zant did, though they weren’t closely related. If he knew she was Twili, then he knew where she was descended from… which meant wherever she was supposed to go, it involved the Twili people, which… were to be found in the exhibit about the Gerudo Desert.

Grasping the broken stall behind her, she hefted herself to her feet, adjusted the bag at her shoulder, and held a hand out to Groose to help him up. He accepted, but did most of the work himself since all she would have succeeded in doing would have been falling over on top of him.

“You ready to get out of this place?” Midna asked as she began to walk back towards the clock tower and the exhausting nightmare that was apparently not over.

Groose looked around for a moment, smiling softly to himself, before nodding emphatically at Midna.

“Yeah, I’m getting kinda sick of clocks if you know what I mean.”

She snorted, and the two approached the doorway in silence, letting the celebration around them wash over them. As they reached the doors, they exchanged one last perfunctory nod before pushing.

They were enveloped in white.


	13. I Need a Hero

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you see that chapter title? 
> 
> That means you're contractually obligated to have Bonnie Tyler stuck in your head for the rest of the day after completing this chapter. 
> 
> Carry on.

“Well, I for one am impressed. I mean, I always knew the goody-goody face he put on was just an act. There’s no way a guy as handsome as that could be so pure, there was bound to be a dark streak inside him.”

“Oh, shut up, Cia. You don’t know anything about him. I think he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time-“

“Like you know any more than I do, Lana!”

“Well, I mean… He and I… We’re friends!”

“Ha! More like you asked to borrow his pencil once in English and never gave it back! I know you have a shrine built to him in your closet!”

“I did not! Cia, stop lying! You’re just jealous I had a class with him and you didn’t!”

“Goddesses above…” Medli whispered, resting her forehead on the cold metal tabletop and closing her eyes, letting the gentle morning breeze dance soothingly through her hair, “It’s too early for this.”

Truth be told, it was a lovely morning. Seven o’clock, the air was crisp and cool yet markedly warmer than yesterday had been. Warm enough that she’d elected to wear her favorite sleeveless turtleneck dress, teal as that was her favorite color, and a pair of brown boots. Makar had called her mad, but a little bit of chilly weather wasn’t going to stop her from looking fabulous. She’d even thrown on a scarf, just because. Something about being in Castleton made her feel like she had to accessorize. She wanted to look good at the museum today.

Only… from the looks of things they wouldn’t be going to the museum today.

A few tables over, the shouting match between the Wohrs twins was reaching a migraine-inducing climax. She didn’t know either of them particularly well, but she shared at least one class with each girl and knew that they were both excessively passionate about the silliest things, though you wouldn’t guess they were twins on sight. In fact, the only things the two had in common were eye color (a lovely shade of lavender), long legs (which Medli secretly envied, being so short herself), and the uncanny ability to irritate anyone in the immediate vicinity.

Right about now, the rest of the students gathered together at the hotel’s outdoor café were shooting the girls annoyed looks and readying themselves to leave. That was fine by Medli; she wanted to be alone and knew that the sisters wouldn't stay out here for long. With any luck, events would run their course and she'd be left alone in the morning sunlight to stew over their wasted vacation and the puzzling events of last night…

The chair across from her was pulled out with the scrape of metal on concrete, and the short, round body of Makar Korok took its place before her.

“I got you a bagel,” he said, mouth full of cinnamon doughnut, offering the food to her pinched between a napkin held in pudgy brown fingers. His other arm was busy securing a packet of cream cheese, a knife, and a couple bottles of juice. She smiled gratefully and took the gift from his hand.

"Aw, thanks, Makar."

He shrugged, setting the various food items on the table before rummaging around in his pockets, looking for something. She took a moment to examine him; short, curly black hair, wire-framed glasses, nut-brown skin. He was dressed in simple jeans and a yellow t-shirt bearing the inscription ‘Wand of Gamelon’; a hokey fantasy TV series he followed online. If he were a normal guy, she’d assume his casual clothing meant he wasn’t expecting they’d leave the hotel today either, but Makar always dressed that way.

“I spoke to Miss Astrid. She says she doesn’t know what the situation is with the concert. I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.”

“They can’t have a concert without Marin,” Medli stated definitively, ripping the plastic top off the cream cheese container and scraping it across both halves of her bagel.

"Of course they can," Makar muttered, shooting his companion a flat look. "I get she's our friend and we don't want her to miss it, but they're not going to cancel the whole concert just for her. They'll either find some other girl to sing it, or they won't perform that number."

“They can’t not perform ‘The Ballad of the Wind Fish’ at the Hero of Time Anniversary Concert! That song’s too important!”

“Well alright then. So they’ll find another girl-“

“They can’t find another girl!” Medli snapped, pounding her fist on the table emphatically. “Marin’s worked too hard and too long to miss this! How can you even say that?!”

“What are you yelling at me for?!” Makar retorted hotly. “It’s not like I’m the one replacing her! I’m just saying it’s going to happen! Besides, if anyone’s to blame, it’s her! If she cared so much about the concert, why’d she run off?!”

The students around them were staring. Medli took a moment to compose herself and take a bite out of her bagel. It was a little stale.

“Sorry I yelled.” She mumbled after a few moments of silence and the students had begun turning away.

Makar shrugged again.

“I guess I’m just… worried, that’s all. Worried and frustrated. About the concert, Marin, the field trip being messed up, Link and his arrest, the disappearances…”

“We all are.” Maker replied, finally extracting a folded-up bit of newspaper from his pocket and flattening it on the table. “And speaking of disappearances…”

“Oh Goddesses, don’t tell me there’s more…”

“I dunno if it’s related, but… well, there’s this.”

He pointed first at the bottom of the page, keeping the headline folded up so she couldn’t see it. Leaning forward, she was met with pictures of seven little children lined up on the bottom of the page. The caption read ‘Seven children reported missing from West Road Orphanage’. She let her eyes run over the images; the oldest, a girl with a light pixie-cut, looked to be maybe eight or nine, the youngest, a rotund boy with a cowlick, couldn’t have been more than four. They all looked so cute… a freckled kid with the too-wide smile that screamed trouble-maker, a girl with long dark hair and glasses, a scowling blonde with a ponytail, a thin, reedy brunette girl with wide eyes and a shy smile, and a grumpy looking boy with spiked hair and a skull-print t-shirt.

Medli quickly read the article and gave Makar an odd look.

“I mean, this is terrible and all, but… why are you showing me this?”

“Oh, come on. A bunch of little kids go missing the same night that Link gets arrested and half of our class vanishes into thin air? You don’t think there’s any sort of connection?”

Medli shrugged uncomfortably. “I guess there could be…? Are you saying they kidnapped the kids or… Wait, do you think someone kidnapped them all?!”

It was Makar’s turn to look uncomfortable. “Well… I don’t know what I think. The only thing I know for certain is that Marin would never voluntarily miss this concert and she definitely wouldn’t leave without telling someone. Mr. Auru’s having kittens, you should’ve seen him…”

As Makar rambled off about Auru’s psychological state and the annoyed appearance of the other chaperones, Medli let her gaze wander back down to the pictures of the missing kids. Could these disappearances be related? Makar was certainly right about one thing; there was something definitely fishy about their classmates’ disappearance last night.

The chaperones had tried to keep it quiet, but there was really no hope of that; Marin never came back to the room, and when the chaperones began sweeping the hotel rooms looking for people, Medli’s worries were confirmed. As of last count, nine of her classmates were missing. Nine!

Most of them Medli only knew by name, though she’d worked on projects before with Aryll, and she’d spent the entire day yesterday with Link and had liked him immensely. She had a hard time believing he was a thief, especially since all of the students of Ordon High regarded him as a hero who could do no wrong. But was that the issue? Was she letting her opinion cloud her judgment?

“…and that isn’t even the worst of it.”

Medli blinked, having forgotten that Makar was even talking.

“The worst of what?”

“This.” He replied, flipping the paper over, revealing the headline he’d previously been hiding.

It read, ‘Heroic Prison Break!’ Frowning, she bent forward and read the text below.

‘ _In a stunning turn of events, it has been reported that Link Hero, teenage ‘hero’ of last year’s infamous Ordon High Massacre, who was arrested for the theft of unknown property from the Museum of National History, broke out of his temporary holding cell at the police station last night and is currently on the run. Officials report that…’_

“Link broke out of jail?” Medli whispered, her voice hushed. She’d never really believed that Link was guilty of anything, but breaking out of jail and running away… it certainly seemed like something a guilty person would do.

From across the patio, a loud scream and a splatter of laughter broke through Medli’s reverie. Lana was standing, her face the perfect picture of scandalized shock as wet coffee dripped down onto her blouse. At the table, her twin sister Cia was laughing uproariously.

“Cia…! You… I…!”

“Really, Lana, you should be thanking me, I did you a favor! You look so much better now than you did- _AH!”_

Her sentence was cut short by Lana hurling her own coffee down her sister’s shirt. At once, the siblings were screaming in each other’s faces, shoving each other, raising claws, ready to strike-

Astrid burst out of the hotel looking harried, seizing each girl by the arm and marching them back into the hotel, making vain attempts to scold them over their continued shouts and shrieks. The remaining students on the patio leaped to their feet and followed them inside, laughing and flashing phones, no doubt recording the spectacle to show to their friends.

Medli and Makar exchanged looks, then immediately burst into laughter. Oh, it did her good to see those two airheads acting like children and being punished like children… Still, it was only a momentary distraction from the reality unfolding before her in the daily newspaper.

Something was definitely going on, only she had no idea what it was, nor even how to find out. Then again… life wasn’t a Nancy Drew novel. Just because there was a mystery didn’t mean she had to go sleuthing about. She’d find out what went down soon enough. For now, she might as well enjoy her bagel and worry about the concert tonight. Maybe she and Makar could head over to the concert hall and get some practice in before-

Lost in thought, Medli had turned her head to face the park that was situated beside the hotel café, just over the fence beside their table, and accidentally locked gazes with a scowling little girl standing four feet away, just beyond the gate. She looked rather cross.

Medli’s mouth gaped open, surprised and a little taken aback that some little kid had apparently been staring at her for an unknown amount of time, but before she could make a sound the child spoke.

“Hey.”

Makar turned, looking startled; apparently, he hadn’t noticed her either. She was staring at them both, arms folded sternly across her chest, off-white sundress looking a little tattered, blonde ponytail tangled and out of place.

When neither teen spoke, the girl continued.

“Are you Medli and Makar?”

Medli blinked. Who was this kid? How did she know their names? Medli glanced at Makar to see if he knew her, but his eyes had gone wide and his mouth was gaping open; he apparently recognized her and was astounded, but Medli still had no idea who she was. Well, may as well ask.

"Yes, we are, sweetie." Medli cooed softly, adopting her ‘I'm talking to little children' voice. "What's your name?"

The look of pure, withering disdain that Medli received could have shamed a stone. Sighing as though speaking to them was the last thing on earth she wanted to do, the little girl lifted her pointed chin and said, “Follow me. My puppy wants to talk to you.”

And with that bizarre pronouncement, she turned, ponytail swishing in the breeze, and began stomping off across the lawn, dirty flats crunching on the brown grass.

"Ok," Medli said after a few moments. "What in Din's name was that all about?"

She turned to Makar with a smirk forming on her face, half expecting him to joke about it being her long-lost child, only to find him gaping after the retreating girl like a fish and scrambling frantically at his pocket.

“Do you… Do you…?” He wheezed, finally extracting his inhaler and taking a deep puff.

“Do I what?” Medli asked, feeling nervous.

“Do you know who that is?!” He gasped, shaking his inhaler and taking another puff.

“No…? Do you?”

In response, he seized the newspaper and flipped it upside down, pointing hastily at the faces of the missing children at the bottom. Medli leaned forward, feeling her stomach tie in knots…

There was no mistake. The blonde girl still making her way across the park was identical to the girl in the missing orphan photo. The name beneath the image read ‘Tatl Fae’. She was seven years old.

The two exchanged dumbfounded looks.

“We have to go after her!” Medli shouted leaping out of her seat and gathering up her purse.

“What?!” Maker yelped, standing and nearly tripping over the chair in his haste. “But… but… we’re not supposed to leave the hotel!”

“Makar!” she exploded, furious, “That’s a missing little kid! We have to go get her! We can’t just let her wander off!”

“W-well, why can’t we get a chaperone to go get her?”

“Because she could be gone by then!” she bit out, fighting with the latch on the patio gate until it finally gave and throwing it open. “We need to get her now! Hurry up already!”

Makar groaned but followed after her as the two sprinted across the park, Makar puffing all the while as they neared the playground. The girl had vanished around the back of it, and as they got closer they watched her disappear into a stand of trees on the park’s edge.

“We’re so going to get murdered…” Makar wheezed, struggling to keep up.

“By what, a seven-year-old?” Medli snapped. He didn’t reply. The two slowed to a walk when they reached the trees, Medli panting more than she ought to, ruby eyes scanning the surprisingly thick wooded area on the fringes of society. It wasn’t large enough to be considered woods, but there were enough trees to hide in. Where had she gone off to…?

Something shifted a few yards ahead.

“This way!” Medli whispered, hurrying forwards. Makar followed, less excited.

The stand of trees was dense, but the trees themselves were thin and young. The leaves blocked the view of the sky above, but more than enough morning light was filtering down, illuminating the leaf-strewn floor. The teenage duo crept carefully along, ducking silently around a young elm and heading towards a small hedge in the center of the trees.  Just beyond the row of bushes, they could see the top of the young girl's ponytail.

“Why are you hiding out here in the forest?” Medli asked in a would-be casual voice, only as she descended the small divot behind the trees and rounded the hedge, her final word cut off in a squeak as she found herself face-to-face with a massive wolf.

Here's the thing about wolves; when you see them on TV, you don't understand them. They look like big grey dogs. Sometimes they hunt alongside cavemen, sometimes they're attractive muscular shapeshifters, sometimes you see them chasing hikers through the woods but the hikers just barely get away. Television can't possibly convey the terror one feels when you find yourself facing a wolf in reality.

Medli was a small girl; not tiny, like Saria, but small. Barely five foot, one-hundred pounds, she was about as intimidating as a chinchilla. In the face of this fuzzy, carnivorous creature bred for death, whose massive head and startling blue eyes were level with her sternum, she found she could do little more than whimper. And so she did. Pathetically, and with terror so strong welling up inside of her that she couldn't feel her feet nor command them to run.

The monster snorted, wet nose glinting in the sunlight. Its eyes flickered from Medli to Makar and back again, its stare steady and unnerving. Goddesses, what was this woodland terror doing in the middle of the city?! Something glistened around its foreleg. It looked like a broken handcuff. Had it escaped from the pound?

“Took you long enough…” came a sour feminine grunt. Turning her head in shaky increments, Medli was greeted with the bizarre and incongruous image of small little Tatl, wayward orphan girl with the blonde ponytail and white sundress, leaning against the wolf’s haunches like it was a wall. Granted, to a girl her size it almost was; she was only slightly taller than the canine’s shoulders.

Licking her lips, Medli whispered softly, “OK, sweetie, listen… Just slowly walk around this way, grab my hand, and we’ll be off, ok?”

She slowly extended her hand to the side, watching the wolf’s eyes follow her movement, praying it didn’t decide to leap forward and seize her arm in his massive, bone-crushing jaws.

“Medli…” Makar groaned softly behind her, clearly having the same thought.

“What are you talking about?” Tatl asked, rather rudely.

The wolf made a half-snort, half-rasping sound, and Medli jumped slightly, heart leaping into her throat and sweat trickling down her back.

“Honey,” she tried again, this time a little stronger, “You’ve got to get away from him. He’s not a puppy, he’s a wolf, and he’s very dangerous. Just come along with me to the hotel, I can get you some food if you want. There are a lot of people looking for you, you know.”

The girl was looking at her with a mixture of incredulous disbelief and imperious scorn.

“Of _course_ he’s not a puppy,” she drawled, voice thick with more condescension than any seven-year-old should be able to muster, “Anyone with eyes can see that. What are you, stupid?”

A pang of irritation shot through her terror. What was with the attitude on this kid? She was the one who called it a puppy in the first place! Grinding her teeth, she bit out breathily, “We can talk about this later, now _come on!_ ”

“No!” She replied, crossing her arms and scowling petulantly. “I brought you here to see Link, he wants to talk to you.”

Medli’s jaw dropped, mind going momentarily blank.

“L… Link? You know Link?” She blabbered, forgetting the wolf for a second and staring wildly at the girl. “How do you know Link? Where is he? Is he here?”

"He's looking right at you, dummy," Tatl said, rolling her eyes. "Gods, and they say blondes are the slow ones…"

Medli’s brows furrowed. She glanced around, seeing no one around them in the forest. He must be hiding, but she wasn’t willing to reveal too much of her back or neck to the wolf in front of her, in case he got any ideas.

“…Where?”

“Where-? Right here, you idiot! He’s standing right in front of you!”

Medli locked eyes with the wolf. Understanding flooded through her.

“Oh…” She breathed softly, feeling disappointed. “The wolf’s name is Link.”

“Yes! Goddesses, you’re stupid!”

“Right. And your puppy wanted to see us. Well. He saw us. Now come on, back to the hotel, we’ve got to get you back to the orphanage-“

“What? No! Listen, you have to talk to him-“

“I can’t talk to a wolf!” Medli blurted out loudly, then immediately clapped her hands over her mouth, worried she’d startled the creature. The wolf hadn’t reacted, however. He merely stood, observing the three humans in his presence with detached interest, almost as though he were observing an amusing variety show.

“He’s not _really_ a wolf," Tatl stated emphatically, glaring at Medli as though she could force the older girl to understand through sheer will-power alone. "He's your friend Link, the Hero of Time. He got himself turned into a dog because he's stupid, and now he needs you two to help him turn back so he can save the day and help me find my little brother."

The wolf turned to the little girl and snorted.

She shot it a flat look. “Well, I meant it. You are stupid, and you know it.”

It snorted again and nudged her with its head.

“Look, it’s not my fault that crazy things happen to you, ok? You’re the dumb one who goes looking for trouble.”

A soft growl and a bark emitted from its throat.

“What is that supposed to mean?! I could have handled those skeletons all on my own! You only ran in there cause dogs like chewing on bones! Don’t even lie, you liked it! You’re more dog than human even in your brain! You even like getting scratched! I bet all you want to do is play catch and get your tummy rubbed and- EW! STOP LICKING MY FACE!”

The scene that followed was, for lack of better description, adorable. Tatl stumbled back, was pushed over onto the leafy ground by the wolf’s massive head, and was reduced to a state of giggles and screeches as the huge, feral beast began slobbering all over her face and arms. In a moment, the wolf went from terrifying to downright cuddly. After a few seconds of playful torture, the little girl latched her arms tightly around the wolf’s neck and he pulled her to her feet where she teetered for a moment, still giggling, and began wiping off her face and arms on his fur.

“You’re so gross…” She muttered, but the venom was gone from her voice and a giddy smile was plastered across her face. The wolf was rasping wheezily; if she didn’t know better, she’d say it was laughing.

Medli exchanged odd looks with Makar. “Does this animal… belong to you? Is it your pet?”

The normal, happy look evaporated instantly from Tatl’s face the moment Medli spoke, replaced with her omnipresent look of sour discontent.

“I told you, he’s not an animal, he’s your friend Link. He needs your help to turn back into a human.”

Medli sighed. Clearly, whatever this little girl had been through during the night was immensely traumatizing, and she’d somehow latched on to this animal and was confusing it with her friend Link. Maybe she and the orphans were somehow connected to Link’s escape from prison and the disappearance of her classmates, but psychological damage as severe as this… would they be able to break through it and find out what was going on?

“Listen, Tatl.” Medli began, throwing caution to the winds and crouching down so she was level with the little girl; if the wolf was as playful as he had been moments before, he probably wouldn’t attack her. Probably. “That isn’t Link. People don’t turn into wolves. This isn’t possible. I don’t know how you know Link, but I need to get you back to the orphanage where you’re safe, where you belong…”

Something dark flashed in the young girl’s eyes.

“Nobody belongs at an orphanage.” She stated coldly, suddenly sounding much older than she appeared.

Medli was at a momentary loss for words.

There was an awkward pause, and then the wolf nodded to Medli and snorted.

“He says ask him any question you want, something only Link would know. That’ll be your proof.”

“No, Tatl, I don’t need proof, because none of this is possible!” Medli cried, frustrated, rubbing her eyes with her palms.

The wolf let out a series of barks that had Medli quickly stepping back.

"He says that yesterday, he hung out with you two and Marin at the museum. You saw some masks and took a picture of it on your phone. He says he's sorry he didn't go with you see the Shadowfolk exhibit like you wanted to, but he promised his girlfriend Zelda that he'd see that with her."

Medli blinked rapidly, staring at the girl as though she were seeing her for the first time.

“How did you know…?”

"Because Link just told me." She stated plainly. The wolf snorted again. "He also says you had a bagel for breakfast and some orange juice. He can smell it on your breath. He's upset you didn't think to bring us any because we're starving."

Medli slowly turned her head towards Makar.

“Oh come on, don’t tell me you’re buying this.” Makar spat impatiently.

“Well…” Medli said, exasperated, “how does she know all this?”

“She saw what we were eating when she walked over to get us!”

“And the stuff about the museum and the picture?”

“You put those pictures on facebook!”

“You think a runaway orphan girl hiding in the woods was looking at my facebook page?”

“Well, someone else then- maybe Marin told her.”

“We don’t even know if they were with Marin!”

“She has to be with Marin! The missing orphan children have to be connected to all the students who went missing from the hotel and Link’s arrest! They just have to be!”

The wolf let out a loud bark, pawing the ground anxiously.

“He wants to know what missing classmates.” Tatl translated.

“Oh, like you don’t know?” Makar accused haughtily, and Medli gave him a swift, reproving slap on the arm.

“Stop that. He’s talking about all our classmates that disappeared last night after Link got arrested. They were all friends of his. His sister, his girlfriend, his two best friends, Marin, and a bunch of other people… Nearly a sixth of the students who came on the trip just mysteriously vanished. And to top it all off, Link…”

Here, she hesitated. The wolf had looked up at the name ‘Link’ and was staring her in the eyes. Almost as if it had responded to the use of his name and was… listening…

“Link just… broke out of prison and…”

No. It was impossible. Makar was right. There was no way that Link could ever possibly be a wolf. There was no logic that could explain it, no science, no way… Life wasn’t a science fiction movie. People didn’t become animals. It was simply not possible…

“You’re not Link.” She whispered softly, kneeling down and gazing at him head-on.

The wolf nodded.

“No, you’re not.”

The wolf nodded more emphatically.

“No, because Link is a guy, and you’re a… a… not guy!”

He cocked his head to the side quizzically.

“Link says he can still be a guy, no matter what he looks like. It’s not like he got turned into a lady wolf.”

Makar snorted, then cleared his throat and apologized softly.

“But Link… You can’t be…”

He padded closer, but Medli no longer felt afraid. Her mind was too busy reeling at the sheer impossibility of it all. Gently, he nuzzled against her cheek, prompting her to sag against his shoulder. She took a deep, shuddering breath and smelled only fur and dirt and forest, and yet…

“You _are_ Link.”

“Oh, come on, Medli…” Makar groaned, but Medli ignored him and instead gently cupped the wolf’s head and stared into its familiar blue eyes.

“Link, how… how did you get like this?”

"It's a long story," Tatl answered, stepping closer and resting against the wolf's body once again, her fingers tangling subconsciously in his fur. "Link is the Hero of Time. Bad things are happening in Hyrule, and the evil people are trying to stop him, which is why they turned him into a wolf, so he can't draw the Master Sword… But the Master Sword's lost all its magic, so we need to find the new Sages to play the song and wake it up again. That's why we need you two. You're the Sages."

Medli hardly heard Tatl’s words; she was still trying to get over the whole ‘Link’s a wolf’ thing.

“What in the world is a sage?” Makar asked, somehow latching onto the least-important aspect of what Tatl had just said. “What does a sage even do?”

“You have to like… pray or something. I don’t know. Hey puppy, what’s a Sage?”

Link let out a whine.

"He says he doesn't know. But he says he knows you two are the Sages he needs because of destiny or something stupid and because you play the violin and the harp. I guess the Sages of Wind and Earth always play the violin and harp?"

"This is insane," Makar stated simply. "You're all insane. I'm out of here."

“Makar!” Medli shouted, alarmed. If she was steeping herself in this world of insanity, she didn’t want to go in alone.

“No! I’m not doing this! The Hero of Time isn’t real! People don’t turn into wolves! Magic isn’t actually a thing! Why are you believing this?!”

"I... I don't know, it just… It feels right, somehow."

“It feels right? What about this feels right?!”

“I can’t explain it, but… Goddesses, whatever. Either they’re right, our friends are in danger, and all of this is real… or they’re wrong and at the very least we help find a missing orphan child. Either way, the answer isn’t to walk away, Makar, please… Just help me.”

They exchanged looks for a long moment, and Medli was afraid he was going to leave her. Finally, he let out a sigh and rubbed his eyes.

“…Fine. But only because I don’t want to leave you two alone with a dangerous animal.”

Medli leaped to her feet and hugged him tightly, choosing to ignore his fake bravado, laughing in an odd mixture of relief and delight.

Link let out a rasping cough, and Tatl stated primly, “He says you wouldn’t be able to stop him from eating us anyway, but we appreciate the sentiment.”

Makar scowled at the girl and the wolf, then rolled his eyes. “Whatever. What are we supposed to do anyway? We haven’t got our instruments, they’re locked up with all the other stuff for the concert tonight.”

The wolf shot Medli a look.

“Where are they being kept?” Tatl translated automatically.

"The old Castleton Opera House. It's only about a fifteen-minute walk, actually."

“Link says that’s where we’re going then. We need your instruments, and then we need to get to the Sacred Grove, fast.”

“Won’t somebody notice the giant wolf just walking down the street?” Makar asked as Tatl suddenly clambered onto the wolf’s back, riding it like it was a horse.

Medli shrugged. "We can say it's Tatl's seeing-eye dog."

“And what if they don’t let us see our instruments?”

Medli gave him a flat look. “You’re being very negative.”

"Link says we'll have to break in and steal them," Tatl answered as she and Link began trotting ahead, out of the trees and towards the road. "The fate of the world is at stake."

“Of course he does…” Makar muttered under his breath, hurrying forward to keep pace with Medli. “Criminal…”

“Link heard that.”

* * *

With a loud clank and a rattle, the hook fired from the end of Ralph's strange chained weapon and embedded itself in the thick, ancient branch of a massive tree some twenty feet above them. Aryll barely had time to tighten her grip on her hammer before she was jerked high into the air, eyes watering from the rush of the wind, Ralph's arm secured tightly around her waist.

They stopped with a jerk as the chain finished retracting, and the two teens found themselves dangling several feet above the cracked stone balcony of the massive ruin of a building they were trying to enter.

Aryll could hardly breathe, both because she was afraid of heights, and because Ralph’s arm was restricting her airflow. She struggled for a moment, feet kicking uselessly in the air, trying simultaneously to escape his grip and hold on tighter so as to not fall. Why on earth were they still dangling there? Were they stuck?

“Well now…” Ralph’s voice purred softly in her ear, “Isn’t this oddly romantic?”

Her response was to drive her elbow into his diaphragm. He let out a manly ‘Hurk!” and dropped her, and she landed with surprisingly cat-like grace on the ledge below.

“Idiot…” She muttered to herself, standing up and brushing the dirt and leaves off her hands as Ralph finally dropped down beside her, a murderous look on his face.

“Rude,” he stated petulantly, adjusting his jacket and opening the shutters on the lantern he’d been holding in the hand that had held her.

“Deserved.” She shot back, peering through the dark, ruined doorway and into the massive ancient building before her with mingled interest and trepidation. She was still afraid of the dark, but her amazing hammer and Ralph’s stupidity were helping her cope. The hammer because she could kill anything that tried to hurt or scare her; Ralph because her annoyance with him was distracting her from her fear.

“What do you think this place is?” Ralph asked, sounding oddly hesitant as he lifted the lantern high and joined Aryll in front of the doorway, pocketing his grappling hook device and drawing the rusted sword he’d picked up off the ground from where he’d tucked it in his belt.

“I don’t know…” Aryll murmured, squinting slightly, trying to make out what was hidden in the darkness. “A castle maybe? Or a palace? It’s definitely big enough…”

“But how would a magnificent ancient structure such as this have gone so long unnoticed by the rest of the world? And so close to the nation’s capital?”

“Well these woods are pretty dense…” she mused thoughtfully, sending a nervous glance back behind her. “They probably never even noticed it was here. There’s likely loads of ancient artifacts lost in these woods.”

“You don’t suppose they’d allot us a reward for discovering this, do you?” Ralph asked nonchalantly, a definite note of greed in his voice.

Aryll opened her mouth to rebuke him on principle, but paused.

“You know…” she replied slowly, “they just might.”

The two exchanged looks, and for the first time ever, Aryll realized she and Ralph agreed on something.

“Let’s go look!”

“Ah-ah! I shall go first! Because I, ah, have the lantern,” he fumbled as Aryll shot him a withering look.

“Fine fine, whatever, just hurry up already,” she said, waving him on with feigned impatience. She would never admit it out loud, but she was grateful he was going first. Even with the hammer, the lantern, and Ralph at her side, she was still terrified.

Not for the first time that night, she wished Link were there. Or if not him, someone else she could rely on… Sheik, or Midna, or Zelda, or…

She frowned thoughtfully. No, that was it. There was no one else she'd want here other than those four. Saria was sweet but small. Malon would be in a worse state than she was. Mido would be better than Ralph, but not by much. Although Colin-

She bit the inside of her cheek and abruptly ended that line of thought.

The inside of the building was massive. The doorway from the balcony led to a short walkway that overlooked an enormous, hollow room. It was too big for an antechamber; it actually looked like it might have been a ballroom once upon a time. The ruins of fallen pillars lay scattered about, barely visible in the dim light of the lantern. Holes were everywhere in the distant walls, either the remains of doors or signs of destruction, she couldn’t tell. Massive, gnarled roots from ancient trees pushed up through the paving stones below, and a carpet of moss covered the ground. Above them, the domed ceiling had partially fallen in, and through the branches of trees outside Aryll could just barely make out the stars.

The walkway they were situated on was cracked and partially caved in. A half-crumbled staircase led down into the chamber, and they took it as soon as they could; Aryll didn't breathe freely until her feet touched the mossy, leaf-strewn ground. She'd been certain that the balcony would collapse and they'd fall to their deaths or else be buried alive as the palace fell around them. It honestly looked as though one good smack could knock the whole place over. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to come in here…

A beam of moonlight shined down through a hole in the ceiling, illuminating a large square mural near the edge of the chamber. It was too far away for her eyes to make out clearly. Curiosity piqued, Aryll headed off towards it at once.

“Aryll-? Hey, where are you going?!”

“Over here. I wanna check this thing out.”

Ralph sighed, sounding for all the world like her chaperone. “I suppose that’s alright… but watch your step, this floor is treacherous.”

Right as he said it, his foot smacked against a stone and he let out a yelp, tumbling to the ground.

Aryll glanced back at him and let out a snort of laughter. He was lying on his face with his butt in the air, jacket over his head and sword stuck in the ground. Miraculously, the lantern remained upright.

“Smooth.” She chirped playfully as he struggled to his feet.

"Shut it…" he growled, red-faced.

Winking, she turned back to the mural and froze.

A gust of wind blew past them, ruffling her clothes, making the lantern flicker… and suddenly, the room was illuminated.

A circle of torch brackets they hadn’t noticed in the darkness suddenly ignited along the walls, throwing the room into greater relief and casting dancing shadows along the perimeter. Aryll twirled around slowly, watching the walls, feeling apprehension begin to build in her chest.

It wasn’t until she’d made a complete circuit with her eyes that she realized they were standing in the exact center of the room. In fact, the stone Ralph had stumbled over seemed to mark what was undoubtedly the middle. Even stranger, there was what looked to be a hole drilled through the top of the stone. Was that intentional? Was it not just a misplaced chunk of fallen debris like all the other rocks scattered about them? Did it have some special significance?

A crackling sound issued from somewhere nearby, echoing around the room, making it impossible to tell where it came from.

"Oh, Goddesses…" Ralph breathed, pale-faced and shaky as he backed himself closer to Aryll, sword held aloft and eyes darting wildly about them.

Aryll’s eyes alighted on the mural again. She was close enough now to make out some of the weather-beaten carvings; was that… a picture of the Triforce engraved on the front? And the emblem of the Hyrulean Monarchy… And another symbol she didn’t recognize, but she was sure it was religious…

Were they not in a palace after all? Was this actually some sort of religious building? One of the lost temples they’d read about in the museum?

Weren’t those temples supposed to be full of monsters?

The beam of moonlight that had been illuminating the mural suddenly vanished and the mural was lost to the flickering shadows. The crackling sound grew louder. It almost sounded like scuttling… Sort of the sound a crab would make… or a…

Branches snapped overhead. Her eyes traveled upward just in time to see a massive, eight-legged shadow crawl through a hole in the ceiling.

Aryll screamed. Ralph swore. The nightmare lunged. Something wet and sticky slammed into her, knocking her off her feet, and she lay collapsed on the ground, unable to breathe, unable to move, as the enormous spider loomed over her, mandibles dripping with venom as it leered at its prey. Her mind was blank. Nothing registered but fear. Blind, heart-stopping fear.

She was going to die.

* * *

The room before them was empty.

Kafei paused for a moment, his breathing ragged, eyes darting about with feverish intensity, ready for a fight, before slowly lowering his defenses. They were actually alone. Huh. Kinda anticlimactic.

The last several rooms they’d entered into had been harrowing and nightmarish, filled with monsters straight out of his wildest nightmares; hulking lizard men with sinister swords, animated statues who hopped about with hulking hammers, bats… Well, ok, the bats weren’t nearly as terrifying, comparatively speaking, but still.

How the duo had managed to survive this far, he’d never know. Colin was actually surprisingly decent in a fight, considering that his sword was made of dull plastic. Which wasn’t to say he was a sword-swinging pro or anything, but compared to Kafei, in his tiny, cursed child body and with his broken sword, the underclassman might as well have been Conan the Barbarian.

The room they had entered was vast and beautiful; marble floors, ivory columns, stained glass windows flooding the room with amber light. The ceiling was high and domed, with gold filigree climbing the sides, and all around the room unlit torch brackets hung beneath glorious, opulent balconies. Whatever this place was, it was intended to impress.

Directly across from them, set into the wall, stood a massive stone mural. It drew his attention because, unlike the paving slabs or the stones that made up the walls, this particular hunk of rock was roughly hewn and unattractive. The only decorations it bore were a few carvings in its face; a Triforce, the Hyrulean Crest, and some sort of circular shape that he thought had religious significance. Beneath it sat what was really interesting, however; an old, wooden chest.

Exchanging brief, exhausted looks, the two males set off towards it at once.

Hey, weird dungeon full of actual, real-life-monsters and the overwhelming need for counseling aside, who could resist a treasure chest?

Halfway through the room, Kafei paused in spite of himself. He'd intended to cross straight over to the mural, but he had noticed something odd in the center of the room. It had gone unnoticed in his initial inspection, but now that he was closer he could see what looked like an oddly shaped stone set into the middle of a slightly raised platform, directly in the room's center. The stone, which was pure white, was vaguely trapezoidal in shape and had a Triforce engraved on its front, and the topmost part had a hole in it. Presumably, something was supposed to be stuck in there but was missing.

Kafei couldn’t say exactly why this stone had captured his interest, but it had. There was something familiar about it… Something that called to his memory, but what…?

Colin had passed by the weird stone without comment, however, and was now kneeling before the chest, undoing the latches, slowly lifting it open.

Kafei hastened forward on too-short legs, wishing the shorts Tingle had given him weren’t so small. His bare legs were freezing.

“What’s inside?” he called out, wincing again at the unnaturally high pitch of his now prepubescent voice. Goddesses, he needed to find a way back into his original body, fast. He knew Colin was all gung-ho right now about saving Aryll from… whatever she needed saving from, but Kafei’s thoughts were mostly concerned with getting the masked boy to change him back. How was he supposed to face Anju again like this? And after all the work he’d put in tonight for the surprise…

Rather than answer, Colin straightened up and held the object he’d retrieved from the chest out for Kafei to see.

It was a bundle of sky-blue cloth.

Kafei slowed to a stop, utterly nonplussed.

“We came all this way for a blanket?”

Colin grimaced, fiddling with the cloth so that he was holding it by the corners, allowing its full length to be displayed. Though the body of the cloth was was a very pale sky blue, the bottom fringes, which ended in jagged triangles, were a darker navy color.

“Actually, I think it’s… a cape?”

Now that he said it, Kafei could see the golden clasp near the top. Well, that was great – they made their way through this monster-filled palace of death and found a fashion accessory. Well, at least Colin would look the part when he made his heroic entrance.

“Here,” Colin said, stepping closer, “you take it.”

“What?” Kafei asked, dumbfounded, as the (technically?) older boy leaned down and fastened the cloth around his shoulders. “Why do I have to wear this stupid thing?”

“It’s probably important. Why else would we have found it here?”

Well… maybe. He supposed there might have been a twisted logic to that. Besides, it was surprisingly warm…

“Plus,” Colin added, straightening up with a teasing grin, “you looked like you were cold.”

Kafei stiffened. He had noticed? Ugh, receiving pity from a high schooler… Tonight was literally the worst. At least Colin still didn’t really believe that he was the same Kafei he knew from school last year. A silver-lining, he supposed… though he didn’t know why he cared so much.

“Well, now what?” he asked instead, changing the subject, and Colin sighed.

“I… don’t know. I don’t see any other entrances in this room. I think we’ve hit a dead end…”

“Let’s not give up yet,” Kafei said bracingly, trying to regain control of the situation; he may look like a kid, but that did not mean he needed anybody looking after him! “There’s got to be something here we missed. Let’s take a look around.”

And, failing that, they could always break a window. Speaking of, while Colin headed back towards the entrance of the room, Kafei instead walked towards one of the multitudinous stained-glass windows that decorated the edges of the room and peered out through the glass. Maybe he could see something outside that would give him some kind of idea as to where they were…

The landscape outside looked barren and mountainous, though it was kind of hard to tell through all the shards of discolored glass. He could really only see what was right in front of him from this vantage point, but he thought it looked like they were high up on some kind of mountain, with a large valley barely visible in the distance. And there, in the middle… was that a pyramid?

“What do you think this is?”

Kafei turned back to Colin and saw him examining the odd stone they’d walked past earlier.

“Oh yeah,” he answered, heading across the room to join him, his newly-obtained cape dragging on the floor behind him, “I saw that earlier. Kind of a weird thing to leave in the middle of the room, right?”

“I think… it’s a pedestal.” Colin replied, crouching down and letting his fingers brush across the surface of the cool stone. “It looks just like the one the Master Sword was resting in back in the Sacred Grove.”

It did? To be fair, Kafei had never actually visited the Sacred Grove, but if he remembered correctly, that was where Zelda had said their class was headed to next after they’d left the museum earlier that afternoon. He figured Colin would know better than he.

A silly idea struck him then; it was childish and stupid, but how many other chances would they get to do this?

“Hey, Colin. You should totally stick your sword in it.”

“I should what?” he asked, looking confused and somewhat disturbed.

“No, like – stand up and put your sword in it, then draw it out all dramatic-like. It’ll be just like you’re pulling out the Master Sword!”

“Um, no, that’s ok-“

“Oh, come on! It’ll be cool! Then we can brag to Link and the others later! My sword is broken so it won’t look as cool if I did it!”

Truth be told, he knew this was dumb and a waste of their time. On the other hand, though, Colin was looking a little tense and clearly needed to blow off some steam. That, and… well, Kafei was technically a kid right now, people couldn’t judge him for being childish anymore.

Colin gave in semi-reluctantly. Glancing around nervously as if he might be seen, he spun the sword in his hand so the tip was pointing downwards, positioned himself dramatically, took a deep breath, and plunged the sword into the pedestal.

A blinding blue light exploded from within the stone as though it had been waiting all along for him to do this, ruffling his hair and clothing, drowning out his cry of alarm, and everything went white.

Kafei flung his hand up with a pained cry, the wind making his cape billow out behind him, and when it and the light had died down, he lowered his arm and let his eyes blink back open blearily.

Spots of color danced before his vision, but he paid them no mind.

He was alone in the chamber. Colin was gone.

* * *

When he opened his eyes again, everything was dark.

Colin stumbled back, yanking his wooden blade from the pedestal, eyes blinking rapidly, trying to adjust to the sudden change in lighting. The floor beneath him was dark green and unlevel, there was a chill wind in the air, dancing orange lights flickered at the fringes of his vision, and he smelled earth and decay… Where was he?

“Kafei?” he asked, his voice unsteady. There was no answer, though he hadn’t expected one. Whatever had just happened had separated him from his companion, and now that boy was alone in that monster-infested temple. He didn’t have time to worry about that now, though.

Something enormous shifted in front of him, and he started backward, eyes growing wide and glassy as his vision slowly sharpened and he realized what he was staring at.

The furry backside of an enormous spider the size of a small house.

“What in Din’s name…” Colin whispered hoarsely, feeling the need to vomit.

The beast, whose eight massive, milky eyes were presumably locked onto Colin, shuddered slightly and clicked its mandibles, looking uncertain. Why was it just standing there staring at him? Why wasn’t it attacking?

“ _C-Colin?!”_ cried a familiar voice from somewhere behind the monster.

Colin tore his eyes away from the enormous nightmare before him and scanned the ground between the creature’s legs. There was a lump of white on the ground against a fallen pillar, illuminated by a cluster of flames only a few feet away. Next to it, he could see what looked like the shattered remains of a lantern, presumably where the fire came from, some kind of metal rod, and… was that a hammer?!

And in the white sticky lump, Colin could see two faces sticking outward, wearing twin looks of distress and disbelief as they stared wildly at Colin.

Colin felt his heart flutter.

“Aryll?!” He called back, feeling elated. He’d found her! She was alive! He’d saved her!

…Well, almost. There was just the matter of a massive spider to deal with first.

“What are… _What are you doing here?!_ ” she shouted, sounding at once angry and fearful.

“Ha ha!” came the triumphant shout of Ralph Ambi at Aryll’s side. “Heroic entrance, masterfully executed!”

“Ralph, shut up!” Aryll snapped. “Colin, you can’t-! Run! Get out of here! It’s going to kill you!”

Part of Colin was buoyed up at the thought that Aryll cared if he was eaten by a giant arachnid, but the rest of him chose to ignore her. Tightening his sweaty grip on his wooden sword, he fought down the paralyzing fear that threatened to overwhelm him and stared at the creature dead-on. Its movements were becoming more agitated; whatever surprise the blinding flash of light heralding his unexpected appearance had had on the monster was wearing off. He needed to act fast if he was going to take it down.

And he could take it down; the masked boy had told him this was his chance. All he needed was an open mind and the right motivation. He could do this… This time, he’d be a hero.

Colin charged forward with a wordless cry, feet stumbling slightly on the rock-strewn ground, bringing his blade up to bear, adrenaline fueling his muscles, blood hammering through his veins.

The spider reacted instantly, massive leg jerking forward, striking for Colin’s chest, but he jerked out of the way, spinning on the spot, slashing his blade high towards the hairy appendage, feeling courageous.

The sword smacked impotently against the stone-like exoskeleton and, with a resounding crack, snapped in two.

There was no time to react. A second leg caught him in the back, hurling him forward.

He slammed backward into a chunk of fallen ceiling with a force that drove the wind from his lungs. His vision flashed white and he was certain he'd blacked out for at least a second. Something hot and sticky was running down the back of his neck. He was bleeding.

The spider seemed to have recovered from his pain-induced hysteria and was now bearing down on Colin with a menace that would have terrified him were he not already so disoriented and utterly defeated. Weaponless, too injured to move, Colin stared up at the eight-eyed face of death and felt the enormity of his failure overwhelm him.

He’d been wrong… He must’ve been mad to think he could take on that spider with a children’s toy. And now, he, Ralph, and Aryll were going to pay the price…

A cackling, familiar voice suddenly echoed throughout the ruins.

“Ha! Oh man… are you kidding me right now?! That was it? That was the best you had?!”

Colin supposed he ought to be humiliated and enraged that the masked boy had felt the need to chime in and mock him moments before his death, but he honestly felt nothing. He was hollow inside, devoid of feeling.

“I mean, yeah, you never really had a chance anyway, but I at least thought you’d put up a better fight… Well, my pet spider will get fed either way, but I guess I was right about you, blondie. You’re no hero.”

_I’m no hero…_

He hadn’t saved Aryll. He’d been given the chance he’d hoped and prayed all year for, and he’d failed. Aryll was right; she was better off without him.

As the beast loomed overhead, mandibles shining sinisterly in the torchlight, Colin closed his eyes. If this was to be his death, let it come soon… let it be over…

“No,” Came an unexpected voice from somewhere just behind the spider, “ _BUT I AM!”_

There was a muffled ‘whump!” and a resounding crack, and suddenly the spider was scuttling sideways, screeching in agony, turning to face whoever had spoken.

And there stood Aryll, silhouette sharp against the flames that still licked the ground behind her, eyes flashing with a murderous rage he’d only ever seen once in his life; the day she’d discovered he’d traded her brother’s life for her own. She was covered with globs of sticky white web, but her stance was resolute, and she held in her hand what looked to be a large, white hammer.

“Aryll Hero, actually,” she continued dispassionately, voice like iron, and the spider screeched again as though her voice had been a challenge.

“Colin, can you move?” she suddenly called, though she didn’t look at him.

“I-I, uh…” he stuttered, still disoriented and at a loss.

“If you can, get up and try to free Ralph. The webs burn, that’s how I got out. It’s a really good thing it broke our lantern.”

He opened his mouth to respond, to thank her, to tell her not to go, but she was gone before the words could form in his mouth.

Dizzy and confused, Colin gingerly pushed himself upwards and clutched at his ribs. Light, he hurt everywhere… Black spots were popping up before his eyes as the blood from his head dripped down his back, but he couldn’t lay back down. Crashing sounds were emanating from the other half of the room where he knew the girl he loved was doing battle with the creature he’d failed to kill. There was nothing he could do to help; he was in no fit state to run or fight, and he had no weapons. At the very least, he could do what she asked and free Ralph… and pray she was alright.

He kept his eyes on her as he pulled himself across the ground in a half-crawl. The monster was now suddenly short two legs and was screeching and stabbing down at her, struggling with all its might to kill the little girl who was tearing it apart with a ferocity that was both awe-inspiring and terrifying.

The spider flashed a third leg at her, and he watched in disbelief as she literally twirled out of the way with all the grace of a ballerina, pivoting on the floor and swinging that pale-white hammer as if she was hitting a home run. There was a crack like a gunshot as the hammer hit the leg, and the shiny black carapace fractured under a blow far too mighty to have come from little Aryll’s arms. The creature stepped back in panic, and as it attempted to put weight on the fractured leg, the entire limb collapsed, bending in the wrong direction, dropping spurts of gooey blue blood down on the mossy stones below.

Colin suddenly realized he was at Ralph’s side. He had no memory of getting there. Fumbling around behind him, he snatched up a fallen branch and stuck its tip in the now guttering flames behind him. He could see where the spilled oil had burned through the web that had held Aryll bound. Turning back to Ralph, he held the flaming branch up against the web, waited long enough to make sure it was burning then turned his attention back to Aryll.

The spider was down to four legs now. It dove forward, teeth glinting, ready to bite, but Aryll smashed it straight in the face with her hammer. There was a shattering sound as one of its teeth exploded, and the monster reeled back, stunned. Unable to balance on only half of its legs, it stumbled into a wall and collapsed, body twitching, trying to stand back up.

The wall above it trembled, dust and loose rocks showering down, and Aryll suddenly ran forward; not to the spider, but to the room’s perimeter.

Raising her hammer, she slammed it against the wall, once, twice, a third time-

On the fourth blow, the ancient stones cracked and the building gave a fearful groan. Aryll sprinted away wildly, hair dancing in the night breeze as the wall sagged forward and began to fall.

There was a tremendous crash like an avalanche, and a wave of dust enveloped Colin, forcing him to close his eyes and cough.

When the dust cleared, there was no sign of the spider. Just a pile of stone and mortar, and the little blonde girl who’d caused it.

Aryll stood at the fringes of the pile, chest heaving, hammer slumped on the ground, staring intensely at the pile as though daring the spider to live through the veritable mountain of stone.

Unbeknownst to her, Colin was watching her with the same avid intensity, though he felt as though the stones had fallen on him.

The flames licked through the last of the web holding Ralph down, and the red-headed boy pushed himself gratefully upwards.

“That,” Ralph breathed fervently, “was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Aryll suddenly let out a high-pitched scream and began dancing frenetically on the spot, hammer falling to the ground with a clatter as she began slapping herself all over with her hands, brushing off the last bits of the web that still clung to her.

A normal person might have thought she'd suddenly gone mad, but Colin felt a tiny surge of affection flow through him; she hated spiders.

When she stopped, she bent over, gathered up her hammer, and began walking back towards the boys, arms held rigidly at her sides. Colin hastily looked down at the ground, closing his eyes and holding his head, hiding behind his injuries. Hopefully, she'd think he wasn't looking at her because he was hurt, not because he was ashamed.

Because gods, was he ashamed…

“Aryll,” Ralph started the moment Aryll drew within speaking range, shoving the rest of the web off him and climbing to his feet, “allow me to begin by saying that you are absolutely, without a doubt, a one-of-a-kind-!”

“Colin,” she cut him off, voice unreadable, “are you alright?”

He hesitated, unsure how to answer and not wanting to meet her gaze. Was he alright? What a loaded question.

“I’m fine.” He mumbled, trying to stand up and falling back down. He was still a little dizzy.

“You’re bleeding,” she stated as though he were unaware.

“Yeah, I know… hold on…” There was a tear in the sleeve of his shirt from when the spider had broken his cane. He gave a short tug and tore his right sleeve clean off, balling up the dusty material and holding it up to his head, wincing as he applied pressure.

“And your face has a cut-”

“That’s old, don’t worry about it.”

An awkward silence stretched between them. He kept his head down but examined the floor with great interest. Was it just him, or did the room seem brighter for some reason?

“Colin,” Ralph spoke up once again, “might I inquire as to where you came from? You were not with the rest of us when we arrived at the museum. How is it that you came to be here?”

Colin glanced up at Ralph. He looked to be about as sticky as Aryll, but no less worse for the wear. His voice was just as pompous as ever, but there was no indication that he acknowledged Colin’s failure to kill the spider. Then again, Ralph hadn’t done anything either. Maybe he was just as reluctant to acknowledge his ineptitude as Colin was.

“Me and Zelda had left earlier with Anju… Kafei Dotour had gone missing, and we were talking about it when we heard the news about Link’s arrest… We were on the way back to the hotel when Midna called Zelda… she said something about the museum, but then the line went dead. We assumed you all had come down here to try and prove his innocence or something stupid like that, so we followed… Tingle the homeless man let us in, and we met a boy with a mask…”

Ralph opened his mouth to ask something, but Aryll cut him off.

“And the masked boy sent you here with us?”

“No…” he said slowly, resting his head on his knees to avoid having to look at her. “He sent me to… some temple. Told me I had to play some game… something about the Hero of Time…”

“Us as well,” Ralph mused thoughtfully. “Did you have to survive the night in this temple of yours?”

“Survive the night?”

"That was our test," Aryll answered. "We had to survive a night in the forest."

All Colin could see of her was her feet. Those neon-green track shoes were ridiculous. There was no doubt about the room getting brighter though; the sun must be rising. And that meant…

“Well, congratulations,” he offered, voice sounding hollow. “You passed your test.”

“And you? What was your test?”

“I had to…”

His throat was dry. He couldn’t answer.

“Colin? Are you awake? Ralph, did he pass out-?”

"No, I'm alright," he said quickly, hesitating long enough to swallow and work some moisture back into his mouth. “I… I had… to save you…”

There was silence in the ruin.

“Well,” Ralph offered lightly, “that went about as well as expected-”

“You didn’t have to save us. We saved ourselves.”

Colin couldn’t help it, he looked up and met Aryll’s gaze. Her eyes were baggy but no less hard, and she was regarding Colin with a look he couldn’t place. The thought of that distressed him more than anything else; since when could he not read her?

He shook his head and ignored the pain, swallowing again, not knowing why but needing her to understand-

“I… I’m sorry, Aryll, I… I knew you were in danger, and I t-tried to help, but… I just screwed everything up again…”

His breathing had grown ragged, eyes watering slightly against his will, but Aryll showed no sign of acknowledgment. She was biting her bottom lip, brows heavily creased, one arm folded across her abdomen, gripping her elbow, but the emotion behind her eyes was lost to him.

She exhaled heavily through her nose, eyes closing for a moment as she rubbed her temples in irritation. After a pause, she turned her attention back to Colin.

“Colin, it’s…. It’s ok, everyone’s ok, it’s not your fault, just… chill, alright?” She sounded tired, physically and emotionally. He couldn’t blame her.

He shook his head, looking down.

“…What is it?”

“It’s just…” he didn’t know where the words were coming from, or why he was telling her. He knew how she’d respond, knew how this conversation would go, and yet they dribbled out of him like the blood from the back of his head. She was a wound he could not close, no matter how hard he tried.

“I thought… I thought that, maybe, if I could be the hero for once, maybe you could see that I’m not the same person I used to be… Maybe you’d finally be able to forgive me…”

For a moment his heart pounded, eyes locked on hers, silently begging, pleaded, needing her to understand that until she said those words he could never move on, never get over what had happened. For the rest of the school, the Ordon High Massacre had come to an end when Link had tackled Ganondorf through the window; for Colin, it went on and on and on and on… It would never be over until she forgave him.

There was a pause, and Aryll let out a sigh, feet shuffling uncomfortably on the leaf-strewn floor.

“What I need isn’t another hero, Colin…” she whispered softly.

There was an explosion behind them.

Conversation momentarily forgotten, the three teens whirled around, Colin’s vision spinning slightly, as they turned to face the source of the noise. For a wild, panicked moment, Colin though the spider was back.

The wall beside the old stone mural had exploded outward with the force of a bomb blast, and what was unmistakably the prow of a ship came surging through the ruins of the temple complete with a spray of water.

“What in Din’s name?!” Ralph cried, astounded, but the rest of his words were drowned out in the rush of the water pouring in through the hole. The strong sent of salt flooded Colin’s senses. What on earth was going on?

For a moment, it seemed the endless cascade of ocean water must surely fill the room, but a figure came splashing out of the hole in the wall, landing on the floor with a wet flop, coughing and retching. The moment he passed through, the flow of water slowed to a trickle until at last, it was nothing more than a few drops of water.

The figure, who looked to be a man with long salt-and-pepper hair, a white button-up shirt, black slacks, and a bulbous red nose, gave a shuddering gasp and floundered to his feet, eyes staring wildly about him as though he were more startled by the sight of the sunrise-lit forest clearing than they were by the sudden unexplainable presence of a boat through their wall.

“Is that…?” Colin asked, hardly able to process what his eyes were seeing.

“Linebeck?”


	14. An Ancient Call

“Alright, so… Explain to me again how we showed up in the desert?”

The sand shifted restlessly beneath his massive feet, messing with his footing with every step, making it difficult to walk. Overhead, the sun was a magnifying glass held by an angry child, and he was the ant. Sweltering didn’t even begin to describe how hot the air was around him. The sweat that had once dotted his brow and soaked his shirt had long since evaporated, and he could feel the tell-tale sting of an oncoming sunburn across the back of his neck. Goddesses, but he hated the desert.

“Groose, for the last time, _I don’t know._ ” Midna grated out angrily between clenched teeth. In spite of the fact that Groose was by far the larger of the two, had greater surface area with which to feel the heat and get sunburned, and was wearing more clothing, Midna still seemed to be the one suffering the most from their impromptu desert voyage.

When the two had walked through the doors of the clocktower, they’d been enveloped in a bright burst of light, and then all at once found themselves back in the museum, up in the Terminian mask exhibit that was up on the second floor. Groose could have cried from sheer joy if he was the type of loser who cried. He had intended to head straight for the front door and make a break for it, but Midna had turned left once they’d reached the bottom of the stairs, and a brief discussion had ensued about what she called ‘priorities’.

_“Hey Mid, where do you think you’re goin’?” Groose called loudly, voice echoing off the dark atrium walls. Just behind him were the front windows and doors that led back to freedom and normalcy. It was dawn, the sun was rising, they’d spent the entire night in that wacked-out clock world, and Groose was ready to be free._

_Midna slowed to a jog and stared at Groose as though he were mad. “I’m going to the exhibit on the Gerudo Desert. You heard the curator, he said I needed to study my past. There’s something important I’m supposed to do.”_

_Groose scratched the back of his head, feeling exasperated. “Well, yeah, but… You really wanna keep playin’ this game? Mid, c’mon… The exit’s right here, we can just get out and be done with it all…”_

_He hadn’t meant it to sound selfish. Honestly, he’d forgotten all about the others with the promise of freedom being so close. Not that he could be blamed, really; the past few hours were enough to screw with anyone’s mind. That didn’t stop Midna from trying, however; the look she gave him could have frozen the dead._

_“Are you kidding me? What about the others? You know what, never mind. You wanna go? Then go. Get out of here, warn the police, do whatever. I don’t care. But my boyfriend is in here and so are the rest of my friends, and I won’t leave them to die.”_

_He half expected her to fly off on a tangent, to continue ranting like she usually did, but instead, she examined him for a quiet moment before muttering, "Just… do what you want, Groose. At least I have my priorities straight…"_

It wasn’t what she said that changed his mind, so much as how she said it. She sounded… disappointed. Groose could take people being angry at him, it happened all the time. Curse of being great. But disappointment… that was a whole different story. Groose didn’t let anybody down, not ever. Sure, he may have forgotten momentarily that there were others in the building, but he wasn’t about to walk out on them. If their forays into magical territory had taught Groose anything, it was that he was one tough nut to crack. Enemies beware; the Groose is loose.

…Besides, he couldn't bring himself to leave if Midna was staying. She may terrify him like nobody else, but somewhere along the line, these two unlikely heroes had become friends. Groose never abandoned his friends.

So they’d set off down the hallway, heading towards the Gerudo Desert exhibit, had taken a left down an adjoining hallway, and then…

They were in the desert.

Just like that, no flashes, no signs, just in the space of a single stride they'd left reality and entered another fictional world, just like Clock Town. Only this one wasn't as pleasant, even without the moon overhead. He'd even tried walking backward to return to reality, but no dice. There was nothing left to do but press on.

Groose had lost track of how long they’d been walking. There were no clouds in the sky and nothing along the horizon to gauge the distance they’d traveled. There was nothing to see but endless sky and endless sand, dunes stretching on for eternity, shimmering in the heat. The only reprieve was the occasional gust of wind, but the breezes were hot and filled with dirt granules that scoured the skin like sandpaper. Goddesses above, what he wouldn’t give to be out of here… What were they even doing here in the first place?

"Hey, Mid…" Groose gasped, wiping imaginary sweat off of his forehead and trying to work the dryness out of his mouth. "What exactly are we lookin' for, anyway?"

“I don’t know…” She mumbled, fatigued. “Something to do with the Twili, I guess… He said I had to ‘seek out my ancestry’ and… awaken who I am, whatever that means.”

Groose cracked his knuckles reflexively. “And… the Twili lived in the desert?”

“I don’t know…” She muttered, sounding annoyed with herself. “Sheik wouldn’t let me go to that part of the museum yesterday, and I guess I never cared enough to do any research before… But I know there’s a big old mirror of Twili design in the desert section. I caught a glimpse of it earlier, so…”

“So that’s what we’re lookin’ for.”

“Yup.”

“…sure hope we’re walking in the right direction.”

“Me too…”

Almost as if on cue, the air before them shimmered as though distorted by the heat, and at once they found themselves standing before an enormous stone fortress.

Groose and Midna’s jaws dropped in twin disbelief. What in the name of Farore…?

Rows and rows of truly massive pillars stood before them, flanking the way up to the main building. All of them were severely weathered and worn, and half had crumbled and lay in ruins, half-buried in the sands. In front, what remained of an ancient staircase could be seen, leading the way between the buildings and towards the outer bulwark, where what might have been a mural of the Triforce could be seen carved into the wall.

Atop the stairs stood an arched doorway, leading into the fortress and towards what looked to be an enormous citadel perched atop the building like a massive, desiccated coliseum. In the middle of the citadel stood some sort of stone slab, and upon it, through the gapes and holes in the medieval architecture, Groose could see the blinding reflection of what was undoubtedly an enormous mirror.

How on earth a building of this size and magnitude had been hidden in a heat wave or mirage was beyond him. Actually…

“Is this a mirage?” Groose whispered, voice hoarse and scratchy.

“I don’t think so…” Midna replied in a rasp.

“Then… d’you think it’s magic?”

“I don’t care…” She breathed out in a half-laugh, surging forward in a trot, hair dancing along behind her. “Look, shade!”

And with a crazed sort of giggle, she flung herself forward into the shadow of a destroyed pillar and pressed her face against the time-worn stone.

“Oh Goddesses, Groose, it’s cool! Touch it! Go on, try! Din, this is better than magic any day…”

Licking his cracking lips, Groose nudged the dazed girl at his side and muttered, “C’mon, it’s probably cooler inside. Let’s go take a look.” Midna moaned pathetically, but she agreed.

Her opinion of leaving the shade of the pillar changed the moment they entered the ruins of the fortress. The room was massive, dark, and hollow. Enough light pierced the room through holes and fissures in the ceiling for them to see, but not enough for the room to have grown hot, not this early in the morning. There were vases and withered chunks of stone tucked away in corners and crannies, yet most of the room itself seemed empty. Piles of sand blown in through the open doorway were clumped about all over the place, obscuring the flooring, and walls and gates meant to divide the room and impede progress were completely torn down. Several holes could be seen in the ground, suggesting rooms below them, but there wasn’t enough light to see what was below and Groose wasn’t fool enough to get any closer.

A couple of doorways appeared around the room, but Groose had no way of knowing which one to take. Just as he was beginning to think they’d have to explore the entire fortress to get out, Midna tapped his shoulder and pointed ahead towards a hallway that seemed to be flooded with light; it must lead outside.

Groose was grateful; he couldn’t say why exactly, but something about the building gave him pause. It was cool, but for whatever reason he felt like the chill in the stone had nothing to do with the lack of sunlight.

He shook his head roughly. A little bit of magic and he’s already seeing ghosts? Puh-leeze. Nothing scared the Groose.

"What do you think these symbols mean?" Midna asked as they neared the doorway. Every so often along the walls, the same bizarre image appeared. The picture kinda looked like a mask… though that might just be because he'd spent too long in Clock Town. Actually, it looked like a two-sided wrench with eyeballs on either end and fat, squishy lemons on the top and bottom. He… wasn't very good at describing things. Groose opened his mouth to say he didn't know and didn't care, but hesitated. There was something familiar about this symbol… Not that he cared about history all that much, but he did spend the entire day in a museum and he was pretty sure he’d seen that marking somewhere…

“What does your book say?”

Midna’s eyes widened. “Oh, duh! Hold on, I’ll check.”

There was a pause as she flipped open the bag and dug out the ancient green tome, riffling through the pages with her tongue pinched between her teeth.

“…it says it’s the symbol of Spirit’s children.”

“What spirit?” Great, now he definitely felt spooked.

“No, not a spirit. Just… Spirit. Like the Sages who watched over the Sacred Realm. There were seven. This is the symbol of the Sage of Spirit’s children.”

Groose frowned, rubbing his chin. “Dunno, Mid… Doesn’t it kinda look like the Gerudo symbol?”

Midna paused, then looked at the symbol more closely. "I… Don't know… I can't remember what any of the symbols look like. I never really cared. But you're probably right… Obviously, the Gerudo symbol is going to be found in the Gerudo desert. I'm an idiot."

“Heh. Nah, we’re just tired, that’s all. Let’s just go check out your mirror and then maybe sit down for a bit, I think we need it.”

Midna agreed with a yawn, stuffing her book back into her bag and untying the sweater from around her waist.

“It’s hot.” She replied when Groose shot her a curious look. She tried to stuff it into her bag, but it wouldn’t fit. Shrugging, she threw it off to the side and they walked off without it.

“Still…” She muttered as they exited the dark room and began climbing a winding staircase that stretched along the outer perimeter of the building full of broken steps and sand, the sun once again bearing down mercilessly overhead, “the book clearly says it’s the symbol of Spirit’s children… Maybe it doesn’t mean literally. It phrases things weirdly sometimes. Maybe they’re just like… followers or something. Do you think the Gerudo adopted the symbol and forgot its original significance?”

"Dunno," Groose grunted, grateful for the curve of the building as the staircase once again took them to the shade. "Nobody believes in this stuff anymore, not for hundreds of years. But… I mean, if magic is real, then… does that mean…?"

Midna looked at him carefully. "I think so. I think it means it's all real. But just because it's real doesn't mean what we think we know is right," she added quickly before panic could overtake him. "I mean, archeologists are probably wrong about all kinds of things, and the stories… I mean, stories get messed up over time. I mean, all that nonsense about the Evil King and the Hero of Time and Princess of Destiny, that's just silly. For one thing, we'd know of anything like that had happened in the last few hundred years right?”

"Right," Groose confirmed absently. He wasn't really listening; he'd learned that sometimes, Midna just needed to hear herself talk. He was too busy examining the staircase, making sure they didn't fall.

“The book doesn’t even really talk about it. It says something about a goddess choosing the Hero to fight some ancient demon, and then generations after the founding of Hyrule the Triforce gets stolen by the King of Thieves, but it breaks apart and goes to three different people; the King of Thieves, the Princess of Destiny, and the Hero of Time. After that, every story is basically the three of them fighting over the pieces. But the stories are too vague, too similar… they’re probably just retellings from different cultures time and time again. I mean, it’s not like they can actually be reincarnated, right? How would you even tell if it’s them, anyway?”

"Guess it depends on the Triforce," Groose muttered absently, scratching his nose.

“Do what?”

Groose looked around at Midna, who was staring at him quizzically.

“What what?”

“You said it depends on the Triforce. What do you mean?”

"Oh. Uh…" he wracked his brains. Where had that come from? "I think it was… Auru, yesterday. He kept following me, Cawlin, and Stritch around the museum. I guess he thought we were gonna get into trouble. Heh. Anyway, uh, he said something like that. Something like, 'the last legend doesn't involve the Triforce being reunited, so the pieces must still be separated, meaning the next time the Hero shows up he'll have the mark.' Or something like that, I dunno."

Midna looked thoughtful. "Huh. Well, if there was ever a time for the Hero to appear, it'd be now. Magic coming back, monsters, kids in masks… Kinda makes you wonder what that masked boy and that white-haired guy are planning. What do we have to do with any of it? And if the Hero's coming, where is he?"

There was a momentary silence as the duo reached the top of the staircase and began following a corridor along the outside of the coliseum. They were fairly high up now, maybe four or five stories. Every now and then a fallen pillar would block their path and they’d be forced to climb over it.

Midna shot Groose a playful look. “You think it’s possible one of you is the Hero? You or Colin or Ralph or Sheik? Or even Linebeck. You’re all here, at the heart of this stupidity. How about it? ‘The Legend of Groose’, Hero of Time reborn. It’d make a good movie.”

Groose let out a snort of laughter. “Please. The Groose is a heroic machine, but I ain’t no Hero of Time, that’s for sure. I make my own destiny. Besides, I don’t have the marking.” He added, flashing her the back of his hand.

Her eyebrows drew together in puzzlement. “Why would it be on the back of your hand?”

Groose shrugged. “How should I know? That’s just where the Triforce appears.”

A few seconds later, he realized he’d been walking alone. Midna had stopped in her tracks and was staring at him, a look of dawning comprehension and horror growing on her face.

“Mid? You ok?”

"You said… You said the mark of the Triforce appears on the back of your hand… And… And… Oh, Goddesses, it all makes sense now…"

“What makes sense?” Groose asked, feeling quite the opposite; at the moment, nothing was making sense.

“Last year, at the end of the shooting… When Link was in the principal’s office, and Zelda… He ran up to save her… That’s why Ganondorf took her- Ganondorf! Oh, and the gloves…! Din, I’ve been so stupid!”

“Ok… Mind running that by me again?” He was starting to get impatient.

“Groose… _Link is the Hero of Time!_ It all makes sense! He’s got the mark on the back of his hand, I saw it last year after the shooting! Zelda has one too, that’s why they wear those gloves- she must be the Princess! ‘Ganondorf gave them tattoos’, what kind of lame excuse is that?! Oh, I’m going to smack them both the next time, I- but Link got arrested… Goddesses, he must be part of the plan! Whoever’s behind this must have arrested him to get him out of the way! And they must be trying to…! But Ganondorf’s dead. If he was the King of Thieves, then how could he…? Unless he wasn’t? But then…”

“Midna? Midna! Hey!” he snapped his fingers loudly in her ears to get her attention. “You’re not making any sense. Listen, I dunno if Hero’s the Hero, or if Nohansen’s the Princess, or anything about this Ganon-whatever dude. Maybe you’re right, maybe you’re not. I don’t really know. But what I do know is we’re here to look at that stupid mirror, so let’s get that part over with so we can get back into the shade and we can talk about all this nonsense then, ok?”

Midna blinked a few times, then nodded shakily. “I… yeah, yeah ok… Sorry.”

“It’s fine. Now come on.”

They continued on down the circular corridor in silence, the sun still blazing but not hitting them directly. The sky overhead was blue, blue, blue, and not a thing could be seen in the distance…

Groose did a double-take. Was that a bird over on the horizon? Must be… but in the desert? There aren’t any plants for it to live off of. Maybe there’s an oasis over there? They’d better check it out later, that juice wasn’t going to last forever.

The wall they’d been following ended abruptly, the remaining section long since crumbled away, leaving a gaping hole into the center of the coliseum. Stepping gingerly over the fallen debris, the two teens entered the center of the building and were met with a peculiar sight.

The ground was almost entirely covered in sand. All around them, the coliseum rose daringly into the sky, crumbling and fractured yet its grandeur undiminished. Along the top of the walls, seven pillars could be seen, six of them bearing the Hyrulean Crest, the seventh broken long ago. But that wasn’t what was interesting; what was interesting was what was in the middle.

On one side sat a raised platform with a small ramp leading up to it. Atop the platform stood the object of Midna’s search; a massive, ancient, circular mirror, shining blindingly in the morning sun. Across from the platform sat a massive obsidian chunk of rock leaning haphazardly to the side. It was uncut and unpolished, not decorative in the slightest. It almost looked like it had been placed there accidentally, as though it had been flung absentmindedly by some giant and left to weather the sands of time.

Groose and Midna exchanged looks before heading towards the mirror, footsteps muffled on the sand.

“Wow…” Midna breathed, eyes glowing with excitement as she neared it, clearing the ramp in two strides and turning to examine the looking-glass head on.

"Yeah," Groose muttered, shielding his eyes from the blinding light. "What a dumb place to put a mirror. What's up with all the lines on the front?"

Several geometric circles had been etched into the face of the glass, forming an almost cybernetic design, with the Triforce symbol at the heart.

“I don’t know…” she whispered, stepping closer. “It’s so… beautiful…”

Groose grunted noncommittally. Well, it was certainly interesting to look at, once you got past the damage to your retinas. How she was managing to stare at it so intensely was beyond him. The heat from the reflected light alone was enough to give any man skin cancer. Maybe she ought to step away…

A sound caught his attention, then. It almost sounded like a high-pitched beeping, or a shrill whine, like from a computer or something… was it coming from the mirror?

“What’s the point of this anyway? Why are we here? What’re you supposed to find?”

Midna didn’t answer. She was staring transfixed at the glass, eyes wide, slack-jawed like a little kid discovering chocolate fondue for the first time.

The sound was growing louder. It was shrill and high pitched. Actually, it sounded kinda familiar… Whatever it was, it wasn’t coming from the mirror… It was coming from somewhere outside. And now that it was louder, he could say it for certain that it wasn’t a computer. Was it an animal? What sort of animal whined so shrilly?

There was a muffled thud from somewhere off in the distance.

“Midna…”

The whine was louder, and suddenly Groose knew what it was; it wasn’t a whine at all. Someone was screaming.

The thud came again, only louder.

“Midna… what’s going on?”

She didn’t respond. Groose spun away from her, eyes darting about frantically, searching for the source of the noise as the screaming grew louder and louder and the thuds grew more and more powerful. No, not louder… closer. It was coming right at them.

The next thud was so loud the very air seemed to vibrate. Groose spun about wildly, panic beginning to well up inside him, and he began wishing fervently that he still had that Giant’s Mask…

Movement caught his eye. He whirled around and felt his jaw drop.

There, over the wall of the coliseum, with a wingspan of nearly fifty feet, flew a massive blue bird with red and golden tail feathers and a mask of solid iron. Clutched in its talons was the source of the screaming; it was a girl with long red hair.

“Holy Triforce!” Groose squawked, diving to the ground as the creature swooped overhead, buffeting him with a stream of wind and sand. “What in Din’s name-?! Midna, get down! Midna!”

But she hadn’t moved. Midna remained where she’d been standing, transfixed by the Mirror of Twili, completely oblivious to the massive avian monstrosity that had appeared to assail them and the screaming girl in its claws. As he watched, Midna lifted a single hand, finger outstretched as though to touch the glass…

All at once, it happened. As the bird circled around, preparing to land, the light from the mirror suddenly flared, flashing its pattern on the black rock before it, Midna caught in the blast. The geometrical pattern reflected on the rock suddenly began twisting and turning, lifting off the rock, floating three-dimensionally through the air, stretching towards Midna… It almost looked like a tunnel of light, a tunnel leading into the blackness of the stone…

Midna’s body shattered like she was a figurine of glass; a million black rectangular fragments began tearing themselves off her body, flying through the vortex of light, sucked into the stone. Before his eyes, Midna Twili disintegrated into nothing.

The light of the mirror died.

“No…” Groose panted, heaving himself up out of the sand. “No… No! Midna! Midna!”

The bird circled back overhead, letting out a challenging ‘Tseeeeeer!”, and Groose was forced to duck to the side as it dove into the arena and struck out wildly with its beak.

Horror and grief were welling up inside of him, but he fought them down; Midna had just been sucked into the mirror, but he couldn’t go after her, not until he dealt with this bird. Besides, going after her now would mean abandoning the girl clutched in its claws, and he wasn’t about to do that. He may not be the Hero of Time, but he was still a hero. Save the girl, then save Midna. He could do this.

But how to kill the bird without hurting the girl? He’d have to get the bird to drop her. An idea formed in his head, a stupid, crazy idea, and he moved.

The bird, it seemed, was also careful with its prey; it remained flapping in the air rather than landing to take him on, and he used this to his advantage. Groose ran around the side of the mirror, heading towards the row of arches that lead out of the coliseum, between the arches, back through the crumbled wall he’d entered earlier. As predicted, the bird followed, not about to let its food get away. As he ran, he unhooked the makeshift grappling hook from his belt and began searching for an adequate spot…

The bird, unable to follow through the archway, let out an angry cry and soared overhead, crossing between the pillars atop the ramparts and diving down towards Groose. The hallway Groose ran along was narrow, too narrow for the bird to get him in. This worked to his favor because it meant the bird had to fly along outside the building in order to peck at him, and it gave Groose many places to hide.

He didn't need to hide, however. While the bird struggled to get into position, Groose hastily tied the end of the rope around a pillar and waited with bated breath, twirling the hook in his hand.

The only reason his plan worked initially was because of the design of the fortress; the large, empty building he and Midna had trekked through before was a large square, but the coliseum was a smaller circle on top of it. When the bird flew close, Groose hurled the grappling hook toward the creature’s head, managing to hook its mask with a satisfying clang. The monster cried in outrage and attempted to soar off, only to find itself restrained by the rope attached to its face. Like an anchor, the rope prevented the bird from flying away, and, not expecting the resistance, the bird was quickly jerked to the side, screeching indignantly, where it crashed into the side of the coliseum.

The good news is that the shock of the impact caused the creature to drop the red-headed girl into the sand-covered roof below with a pained thump, just as planned.

The bad news is that he’d underestimated the stability of the structure. The force of the monster’s massive feathered body colliding with the outer walls of the coliseum caused the already fractured building to crack. All at once, the fortress began falling down.

Groose let out a startled yelp. The pillar beside him suddenly toppled sideways, the rope Groose had tied around it sliding out into the open air. The building was collapsing, and he was stuck inside.

Below, the bird was flapping drunkenly, trying to clear its head and reorient itself. It swooped by, preparing to soar away, and Groose seized his chance.

Leaping from the archway into the open air with a crazed shout, Groose landed atop the massive bird with a grunt, legs and arms tightening around its thick, feathered neck.

The bird gave a shriek and immediately began trying to shake him off, but Groose was strong. It was tough, especially since the monster’s neck was about as thick as the haunches of a horse, but Groose stayed on, grabbing fistfuls of feathers to secure his grip, waiting for the monster to tire out and praying to the Goddesses he didn’t vomit.

Something kept whipping him in the face as the monster tumbled over and over again. Daring to open his eyes which had been squeezed tightly, Groose realized his grappling hook was still attached to the monster's mask.

Steeling his nerves, he let go of the bird’s neck with one hand and grabbed wildly at the rope. Miss... Miss… Miss, oh come on!... Miss… Mi- No! Got it! Haha!

Seizing the rope in both hands, holding on to the bird with only his legs, Groose gave a tremendous tug to the right.

The bird’s neck bend, the creature screamed, and the bird swooped to the right. Tugging to the left, the monster’s head jerked in that direction, and the bird changed course. Groose let out a hysterical laugh; he was steering the bird. This was the craziest thing he’d ever done, and after the day he’d had, that was saying something.

He fought with the bird for an unknown amount of time, the creature continuously trying to throw him off, Groose forcibly changing directions every time, until at last, after several minutes, the monster’s spirit had broken and it landed exhaustedly on the sandy roof of the fortress where they’d dropped the girl.

"Yee-haw!" Groose shouted theatrically, leaping down from the monster's back and hastily tying the rope around a fallen pillar; he had to lay it on the ground and roll the massive thing over it to get it to work, but the bird was too tired to attack him. He didn't think it'd keep the bird trapped there forever, but it was enough to buy him time to escape if need be.

Gasping for breath, Groose collapsed against the pillar and stared at the monster bird he’d just ridden like a rodeo star. His thighs felt like jelly; thank Nayru he survived that.

“Hello?” Called a soft voice from somewhere behind him.

Oh right, the girl!

Groose twisted around, exhausted, ready to tell whoever it was that they owed him big and could begin repaying him by shutting up for a moment, and froze.

The girl behind him was the most beautiful person he’d ever seen.

Long red hair, sea green eyes, tan skin and a dimpled smile in a yellow sundress, carrying a purse… how she managed to hold on to that while being carried by a bird he’d never know… He felt his mouth go slack. Who was this mystery hottie?

“Are you ok?” She asked, looking worried. “You just wrestled with a bird.”

“Um. Yeah.” He offered poignantly.

“Oh. Ok. Uh…” She looked around, casting the bird a nervous glance. “Where are we? And who are you?”

“Oh. Um. Uh. Well, this is the desert. I mean, you can see that, obviously, I mean, but we’re on some sort of fortress and… uh… This is Groose. I mean, I am. I mean, I’m Groose. That’s me. Groose.”

He felt his face flush red and prayed to every goddess imaginable that she’d think it was the sun. Come on, Groose, get it together! You never choke in front of the ladies! You’re the king!

But the girl smiled, a radiant dimpled sort of smile that made his insides flop like pancakes on a skillet. “I’m Marin. Thanks for saving me.”

He grinned stupidly but said nothing.

There was a moment in which he stared unabashedly at her and she stared at the bird, who was leaning over, breathing heavily.

“It’s such a pretty creature…” She said finally, looking sad. Groose glanced over his shoulder.

“You came with us to the museum, right?” Marin asked, stepping closer to the giant monster and carefully stroking its feathers.

“Er, yeah, but you weren’t…” And then he remembered; she was there! He just hadn’t noticed because of how dark it was. “Wait, you go to school with us? How come I haven’t seen you before?”

“I’m new,” she said, shooting him a smile over her shoulder that made his knees weak. “I hadn’t made a whole lot of friends since coming here, but Link saved my life from a car the other day, and his friends Sheik and Midna were nice-“

"Midna!" Groose bellowed, cutting Marin off. "Oh, Goddesses- Midna! She was with me! Right when you and that bird showed up, she got sucked into some mirror! We have to go after her, come on!"

If Marin found this pronouncement weird, she didn’t show it. “Where? Up there? But how do we… Oh, the bird! We can ride the bird!”

Groose, who’d already begun searching for a doorway that would lead back into the fortress, turned and shot Marin an odd look.

“What? We can’t ride the bird, he’s not going to let us…”

But as he watched, Marin whispered something in the bird’s ear and it immediately lowered its head, allowing her to climb on.

“Hurry up!” She shouted, and Groose shook his head.

“Farore above…”

He ran to untie the rope.

Marin scooted back to make room for him just behind the bird’s head, where he gathered his makeshift reigns in his hand and let out a loud “Hiyaah!” for lack of better thing to do. It worked; the bird immediately launched itself into the sky, and Marin flung her arms around his waist to secure herself.

He grinned inwardly. Oh yeah… less than five minutes and she already couldn’t keep her hands off him. Smooth…

His smile died when they flew high enough to see into the coliseum.

Only half of the citadel had caved in after Groose had forced the bird to crash into the wall. Dozens of pillars and chunks of debris lay scattered about the floor, and the dust still hadn’t quite settled. He could see what he was looking for, however; the mirror had been smashed beneath a fallen chunk of stone. Pieces of shiny glass lay scattered in every direction, thousands upon thousands of mirror shards, half buried in the debris, impossible to dig up, impossible to put back together…

Midna was gone.

* * *

Sheik couldn’t decide which was worse; being trapped in an underground labyrinth filled to the brim with an army of the undead gunning for his life, or the oddly intricate ninja cosplay outfit he was for whatever reason being forced to wear.

Granted, it was better than the wet, slimy clothing caked in sewage he’d been trekking around in earlier, but by how much…? The unitard (or at least he assumed that was what it was. Maybe a morph suit was the better description?) covered his entire body from neck to toe in a skintight spandex material. It was weird getting used to at first, especially since he kept feeling like the spandex was trying to ride up his butt crack, but it was surprisingly warm and, though he was loath to admit anything positive about an outfit so horrendously embarrassing, it did allow him surprising freedom of movement.

The ninja suit (as he'd begun calling it) offered a few other perks as well. For one thing, he felt a whole lot safer now that he was wearing it. The suit came with leather padded shin and arm guards that he buckled to his suit where they would protect him without restricting his movement or running the danger of sliding out of place, as well as some kind of white gauze-like material that he wrapped around the padding where they felt a little loose.

he secured the bottom with some more of the white gauze, which also helped to protect his ribs from potential would-be zombie attacks.

And thus did Sheik find himself once again creeping through sewers so terrifying Lovecraft himself would need therapy to get over them, dressed to the nines in the single most complicated getup he’d ever had the misfortune of wearing, and trying to juggle a bow he didn’t know how to use in one hand and a magical purple magnifying glass in the other. Sometimes, life was just unfair.

To top it all off, he had no idea where to go this time. The last time he’d been sent out on this little ‘family history tour’, he’d had his mother’s ghost to guide him. Well… guide in the loosest sense of the word, but it was something at least. Now, however, he was alone. Armed, yes, but alone.

Upon descending the ramp that had been revealed behind the stone mural and finding himself once more in a sewer canal type of area like the one where he’d been chased by the flaming green skull, Sheik decided to give his bow a try. Better to get a feel for it now than when something was coming after him. Approaching the walkway overlooking the sewage canal, (one that was noticeably sturdier than the last) Sheik slid the magnifying glass into one of his pockets and drew an arrow from his quiver, awkwardly notching it and gazing around for a target.

Within moments, one appeared around the corner down below; the same exact type of stupid, flaming skull, this one also traveling the same endless circular course it’d likely been following for centuries like the one he’d encountered before, oblivious to Sheik’s position a few meters away. Who made these things anyway? For what unearthly reason? Grunting, Sheik steeled himself and positioned his feet, drawing the string and struggling to take aim.

Din, but drawing the bow was harder than he thought! Movies made it look so easy! His arms were literally trembling with the physical strength needed just to keep the string pulled back, and the exertion was so great that even attempting to aim was an impossible dream. Finally, his fingers gave in to the sting of the string digging into his flesh through the tape he’d bound them in, and his grip slipped.

With the snap of the bowstring on the leather armguard covering his forearm, the arrow flew… in an upward arch, spinning in circles until it collided uselessly against a stone wall sixteen meters away from his intended target. The skull floated on, oblivious.

Snarling and refusing to give up so easily, Sheik drew another arrow and notched it, waiting for the skull to pass by once more. As it rounded the corner a second time, jaw flapping in absentminded malevolence, Sheik grunted and drew back the string, arm muscles screaming in defiance, upper body trembling with the strain…

He let the arrow fly, and it struck the ground several feet before the skull, snapping clean in two somewhere in the murky sludge of the sewer bottom, arrow shrapnel bouncing all around. The skull continued on, unimpressed.

Growling in wordless rage, Sheik kicked furiously at the air and stomped away from the ledge, trying to reign in his incredible anger. Sure, he didn’t think he’d be a master archer his first shot, but this… this was impossible! How on earth did she expect him to use this with zero training?! He was liable to shoot himself in the foot! He was better off using the bow as a club and baseballing anything that came his way! This bow was… useless! Useless, just like everything else in his life… his mother, this trial, his existence…

“What are you crying about now, boy?” a voice drawled bluntly from behind him.

Sheik nearly jumped out of his skin. Cursing himself for letting his guard down, he spun on the spot, looking for the ghostly visage of his least-favorite person for a wild, pointless second before remembering that he couldn’t see her without the magnifying glass.

Fishing the tiny lens out of his pocket, he spat, “What are _you_ doing here? And what is it with this stupid glass anyway? Couldn’t the Sheikah have devised a better way of ‘seeing past deception’? Like, I don’t know, a pair of glasses? Or some magic contact lenses or something? How exactly am I supposed to fight something I can’t see if I have to be holding this dumb thing in front of my face the entire time?”

Impa’s face remained impassive. “A true Sheikah does not need a handicap to see what’s right in front of them.”

Sheik’s anger surged, but he reined it in. Barely.

"Well, I guess I'm not a true Sheikah then. However will I live?"

“However indeed.” Impa mused, either ignoring or not catching his sarcasm. “The only way for you to escape this place is to pass the test, and you don’t seem to be doing a very good job of it.”

Sheik’s fist tightened on the bow, making his knuckles crack. “Sorry, but you seem to be forgetting that this is the twentieth century and my name isn’t Robin Hood. I can’t use this thing; you need years of practice, and I don’t have that. Couldn’t you have given me a magical shotgun or something?”

“Mmm… Yes, you would feel more at home with a gun, wouldn’t you?”

Sheik opened his mouth to respond but suddenly found that he couldn't. Something had lodged itself in his throat and ice had settled in his chest where his heart used to be.

Impa continued. “Nevertheless, you were right about one thing- you lack training. But it’s not training in weapons that you need, but in your ancestry. You haven’t accepted who you are.”

“I know who I am!” Sheik snarled, taking a threatening step forward. “And I’m no rotten Sheikah! You’ve got a lot of nerve, acting like you know me better than I do, considering how you weren’t really there for most of my life.”

“Spare me your sob stories. The point of this trial is for you to take up your mantle as a Sheikah, and you cannot hope to do so if you insist on crying every step of the way. Every chance you get you search for an excuse for your mediocrity, a reason to deflect personal fault onto anything and everything around you. Enough of your childishness! Life is pain, Sheik! Life is sorrow! Complaining will not change that!”

His mouth worked, but nothing came out. He wanted to scream back at her, tell her she was wrong, that he wasn’t a child, that she could never understand where he came from, that she had a lot of gall playing the hypocrite, telling him to grow up and stop complaining, but he was so angry he couldn’t get the words past his lips.

“You _must_ awaken your true self, Sheik, or all is lost. You must accept who you truly are. You fear what you should be embracing!”

Sheik scowled.

“I don’t get it.” He stated bluntly.

"The magic of our race. You complain that you lack training in weaponry when what you need is mastery over your shadows-"

“Listen, woman. _I. Don’t. Know. What. You’re. Talking. About.”_

“Shadows! The darkness that shelters! Are you not listening?!”

“Why would I want to do that?” He countered logically, “Aren’t ‘shadows’ and whatnot responsible for all the monsters around here? Are you seriously trying to get me to turn evil?”

Impa rolled her eyes with barely restrained impatience. “Evil… Fool boy, nothing is inherently good or evil. Magic, like all tools, can be used for good or for ill. The same light that is used to illuminate can also be used to blind, the flames that warm can also burn, water that nourishes can drown. The same is true of the shadows. They can shelter, hide, deceive… engulf. The darkness of the shadows stretches to oblivion and back again, consuming all, even time, and the Goddesses granted the usage of these shadows to our tribe. They belong to us, as we to them. Call upon them, and they shall strengthen you. This is the only weapon you need.”

Sheik cocked his head to the side. “Riiiight…. Just call upon the darkness and it’ll be my buddy. We can go on picnics in the mortuary and hold hands. That sounds like a really, really bad idea. I think I’ll pass.”

“Then you shall die.” She intoned gravely, and Sheik hesitated, glancing down at the bow in his hands. The one he couldn’t use. Accepting ‘shadows’ sounded a lot like one of those bad decisions characters make in movies that inevitably winds up with them being possessed by ancient spirits or having underworld demons rip out and devour their souls.

If Midna were here right now, she’d take him by the hand and march the two of them away where she’d smack him on the arm for even contemplating such idiocy. On the other hand, he was trapped in a sewer filled to the brim with the walking dead. If he didn’t do something drastic, he was almost certainly going to die. Maybe he ought to at least give it a try?

He sighed, unwilling to believe that he was actually going along with this. “Ok, so… hypothetically speaking, were I to reach out and, I dunno, embrace your darkness or whatever… how exactly am I supposed to do that?”

He kept his eyes focused resolutely on the bow in his hand, but flicked them up nervously towards his mother as he neared the end of his sentence to gauge her reaction. Unsurprisingly, she bore a look of tight-lipped impatience. Well, some things never changed.

“There isn’t time for a complete rundown on magic and how it works. Most of it you’ll have to learn on your own, or through trial and error. If you trust in your instincts, then the shadows will recognize you as a denizen of the darkness and come to your aid. As for how to use it… Magic typically responds only when you both need it, and believe. You must trust that the magic will aid you, will it into existence… and then, to summon the shadow, you must find the darkness within yourself. Your pain, your sorrows, your negativity, all that you’ve suffered. And you must channel it into reality.”

Sheik stared blankly at the ghost of his mother, who met his gaze evenly. Shadow magic was… negativity? Suffering? Pain? Sorrow? He knew those feelings. He knew them well. But she actually expected him to focus on all of the terrible things he’d done and use those feelings of his own volition? Use them as a tool to keep him safe? She was mad! He wouldn’t go near that part of him ever again, not with a ten-foot pole! And she said the shadow wasn’t evil… He should have known better, coming from her.

"Sheikah exist in the Shadows, in the space between light and dark, love and hate, life and death… Standing on the precipice, on the bridge between… There is much darkness in you, Sheik, and there is also much light. There is much love and much hate. Much life, and much death…"

"Well, I don't want the death. You can take it."

Impa shook her head. “You do not understand, even now. Death is immutable. Death is constant. Death comes for all. You cannot avoid it, you cannot reason with it, only accept… only succumb. Death is essential. And we, the Sheikah, are death’s guardians. This is our purpose. For this reason did the Goddesses create us. All things have a time… And all things pass in their time. When and where is unimportant. Why… that depends on the individual. The Goddesses gave us our freedom. To take a life before its time is a terrible thing, and yet… Do you truly believe death will redeem you? Do you think forgiveness can be found in the void?”

 “It is here- the final test of the Sheikah. Before now you have confronted the shadows of the world; now you must confront the shadows in your heart. Drop through the hole and face who you are. If you cannot overcome the darkness within you, then you fail, and your life is forfeit. Go now, my son. Be bold. Do not fear the Shadow.”

As she faded from existence, she kept her eyes firmly on his, expression unreadable.

When she had gone, Sheik stepped carefully forward towards the gaping hole in the floor and peered cautiously over the edge. He saw nothing but inky blackness. There was no telling how far the drop was.

Frowning, he took stock of the situation. Getting out of this Well was his number one priority, and the only way out and to his friends was through this final test… however…

He had to face his inner darkness? What did that mean? How do you face your darkness? Sheik had been struggling with that for an entire year now- the darkness he carried in his heart was larger than most, nourished by guilt and self-loathing for the crimes he’d committed, the innocent lives that had been lost at his hand. How could he overcome that?

Only one way to find out. Adjusting the quiver on his back, he secured his grip on the bow and purple magnifying glass and took a deep, calming breath… then three more, for good measure… and stepped off the edge.

And he was falling…

falling…

falling…

He landed with a thump on his back and immediately bounced back into the air a few feet, flipping over and landing on his stomach with a pained moan. Whatever he was laying on, it was gummy… Not sticky, but a little moist. He couldn’t be sure what it was, but he did know that it was hollow inside; the material had been stretched taut over the rims of something, almost like a trampoline but more firm, which is why he’d bounced when he’d landed. But what was he standing on?

Climbing to his feet and retrieving the magnifying glass that had flown from his hand upon impact, Sheik glanced around. The room was large and circular, expanding as it rose like an amphitheater. Darkness surrounded him, the only source of light coming from the hole he'd toppled through, which did little more than illuminate the platform he was standing on. It was a large, white circle, seemingly floating empty in the darkness. Walking towards the edge, footsteps echoing in a strangely familiar way that he couldn't place, Sheik peered over and saw nothing. Where in the Goddesses' name was he?

Taking a few steps back from the edge, Sheik glanced back up toward the hole in the ceiling and mused aloud, “Well… now what do I do?”

Something massive slammed into the floor with phenomenal force, and the ground leaped up to meet him. Disoriented, limbs askew, Sheik struggled to rise up off the ground as he stared around wildly, looking for the source of the disturbance.

There was nothing but darkness.

The force struck again, making Sheik flop once more, and a second blow landed immediately afterward, followed by a third. Sheik was flung along atop the platform, bouncing like a bug on a snare drum… And that's when it hit him- a drum. The blows were landing in rhythm.

And the rhythm was getting faster.

_THUD! …thud… thud… thud… THUD!... thud… thud… thud…_

Realization flooded through him, and Sheik struggled to press the magnifying glass to his eye as the ground below continued to tremble as though beset by an earthquake.

What he saw through the tinted lens nearly made him scream.

Two massive hands, larger than Sheik’s body, detached at the wrist and floating through the air, were slapping against the platform as though playing a bongo. The skin was a dark brown, thick and stony, with enormous chipped, blackened nails. The rhythm of their playing was steadily increasing and yet they paid Sheik no mind, as though unaware he was in danger of being flattened at any moment. Then again, he thought wildly, how would they know? They were only hands, they couldn't see…

Dark, sinister laughter echoed from behind him.

Sheik whirled around, hefting his bow like a club, prepared to strike… and stopped, blood freezing in his veins as he took in the monstrous form of a rotted, fetid torso hovering in the air above the chasm below, its body larger than life, its arms ending in stumps where the hands had been removed, and its head… was gone. In its place, at the top of its decaying spine sat a single red orb that glowed with malevolence as it took him in, one tiny mortal half-laying on the white, circular platform before him. It might as well have been a dinner plate.

"Oh, Goddesses…" Sheik whispered squeakily, his heart lodged somewhere in his throat.

The laughter echoed around him again

“ _They can do you no good now, Sheikah child… Pray all you like, no one can hear you…”_

His jaw dropped. It could speak?! This eldritch abomination from the deepest depths of his darkest nightmares could talk?!

The drumming grew faster.

“ _Of course I can speak… You heard what the woman said to you… I am the accumulation of all your inner turmoil. I am your darkness made manifest. I am you, Sheik.”_

Disbelief stung at his heart, and he struggled to scramble away from the monster, shaking his head frantically, unable to understand-

“ _This is the moment you have been searching for. The time to face the darkness in your heart. And what darkness you have… Condescension for your mother, envy for your friends, hatred for yourself… You have killed, Sheik. Countless innocent lives have been lost thanks to you. You want death. You deserve death. Why put it off any longer? Greet the darkness… let it consume you!”_

All at once, the creature surged towards him; body slamming onto the platform, rushing forward, eager to shove him off into the dark void below.

Sheik barely managed to roll out of the way. Scrambling to his feet, he struggled to raise his bow, fumbling for an arrow in the hand that still held the magnifying glass clutched in his shaky fingers. Removing the glass from before his eyes cost him his vision, however, and he didn’t see the hand that swooped in behind him, backhanding him with colossal force, sending him flying across the platform.

He hit the ground and rolled, body aching. Somehow, he’d managed to keep hold of the bow, but the magnifying glass…

He pushed himself up on all-fours and cast his panicked eyes about for the magic lens. Oh please don’t let it have fallen off the edge…!

There! Some fifteen feet away he saw the purple glint through the gloom and threw himself forward, desperate to grasp it, to see, his only hope of fighting…!

A hand crashed on top of him, smashing him to the floor, driving on the air from his lungs. Retching and spluttering, Sheik was hauled into the air by an invisible force. He could feel the individual digits crushing his limbs to his sides, preventing his movement. His head began to spin from lack of oxygen. This was bad…

Air gushed over his face, and he was thankful for a moment that he couldn’t breathe; he wasn’t sure how a headless zombie creature from the darkness within his own heart could suffer from bad breath, but there it was. The monster held Sheik aloft, and though he could not see it, Sheik knew he was being examined by the creature’s massive eye.

“ _You are no Sheikah warrior.”_ The monster snarled, derisive. “ _You cannot even see me. Your eyes are clouded by the mundane… You fear the dark, you fear death, and so you fear who you are.”_

“I… Don’t… Wanna be… Me…” Sheik gasped, tears streaming down his face from the pain. The monster was crushing him with excruciating force; he felt like his bones were due to shatter at any moment.

_“Without the Lens of Truth, you are blind. Without your weapons, you are defenseless. Without the Shadow, you are hopeless.”_

Oh, Goddesses… It was right. Sheik really was defenseless… And unless he embraced the Shadow like his mother wanted, he would die… An hour or so ago, or a week, or a month, that wouldn't have seemed so bad… Death, the fate he deserved. He didn't deny it. And yet…

He didn’t want to die. Not anymore. The memory of his friends was fresh in his mind, of Midna and her reaction last time he’d expressed the will to die… His death wouldn’t make up for what he’d done. He didn’t know if anything in life ever could, nor if it was right for him to keep living when he’d cost so many innocents their lives, and yet… If he lived, he could save his friends. If he lived, he could act. He needed to live. He had to live.

But how?! Embracing the Shadow? To do so, he would have to use all the guilt and shame and sorrow he held locked up inside of him, the pain that came from the Ordon High Massacre… From the death of his classmates. Using that pain… was like using their deaths to benefit himself. Was that right? Could he do such a thing?

Another thought popped up in his head, then. Something foreign he hadn’t considered before. Not using that pain… was like ignoring his classmates’ sacrifices, and standing aside to let his friends suffer the same fate. Death before their time… And he could stop it…

“ _It is time for you to follow the way of your kin, young Sheikah… You must fade into the dark… Back to where you belong, you and all your people.”_

Him and his people… A people of death. A civilization built upon the one single defining characteristic of all creation- the end. Death, the endless darkness… and yet, was death not a part of life? His mother had been wrong; Sheik didn’t fear death. He feared death before he could finish what he needed to do with his life. A death before his time. Death came to all, in the end; but death had its place in life, and ought to remain in its place. Death should not come early… and life should not continue after.

“The Sheikah…” Sheik gasped, body screaming in agony, “Don’t belong… in the dark…”

“ _You do not believe that.”_ The monster laughed. _“I see into your heart, Sheik. I come from it. You believe the Sheikah are monsters, creatures of the darkness. The sun has fallen on your people; darkness consumes all.”_

“The Sheikah didn’t hide in the darkness out of fear of the light,” he spat in return, staring dead ahead, right where he knew the monster’s bloody eye was situated, “They stayed because they were the only ones strong enough to hold it back!”

The grip on Sheik’s body tightened even further as the monster roared in rage, and black spots exploded before his eyes. He was moments away from blacking out… he needed to act quickly.

_“The Sheikah are monsters of the Shadow, just like me!”_

“The Shadow is more than darkness!” Sheik attempted to bellow in response, though the lack of airflow made it come out as more of a pained groan. “Shadow is made of darkness and light… In equal parts. It’s hatred and love, life and death, fear and hope… The Shadows belong to the Sheikah! They belong to me!”

Images burst through his mind- teenagers huddled in classrooms, gunshots in the air, explosions all around. Bodies littering the floor.

Zant. A boy with a flute. His friend Byrne, dying in his arms…

And he saw other things- his mother’s emaciated body, trembling on the floor of their mobile trailer, body convulsing from sickness and drugs. Drug deals he made for Ganondorf to pay her bills. The funeral after she passed that no one attended. A childhood lost to darkness and pain… His entire life, one constant stream of sorrow that almost made him scream from agony…

But there was so much light… His best friend Link, forgiving him without question, offering him his home… Midna, and her undeserved, unwavering love. Zelda, like a sister, always supporting him, always including, never shying away from the hollowness in his eyes. Aryll’s stupid jokes. Granny Hero’s support. Colin’s understanding. Ralph’s bravado. He had so many people in his life who he cared for, who cared for him… Why…? Why did they stand by him?

They would die if he didn’t save them. They would die if he didn’t embrace his Shadows…

And the people he’d killed? The people whose lives he’d played a part in ending?

Their deaths were tragic, but they didn’t have to be meaningless. Those sacrifices would mean nothing if he died here now. He would use their memories to fuel his pain and save the world in which their loved ones resided. He would not let their deaths be in vain.

He opened himself to the sorrow, to the pain and anguish and misery of his past, and felt the Shadows flood through him.

His eyes opened, and he saw the monster before him in perfect clarity. His eyes could see the truth.

“The Shadows belong to me.” He repeated softly, staring the monster dead in the eye. “You’re not welcome here.”

In a moment, Sheik was gone. His body faded into the darkness of the room without him really knowing how; it was instinctual, some part of him that simply understood how to manipulate the shadows. He reappeared high in the air above the monster, and he drew an arrow from his quiver, knocking and drawing in one steady movement; the shadows around him bolstered his strength, and his arms no longer trembled.

The creature below spun around, roaring in rage at having lost its prey. It noticed him moments before he let his arrow fly and it managed to bring a hand up to protect his eye just before the arrow could land its hit. It let out a howl of pain as the tiny projectile pierced its flesh, and the hand fell uselessly to the floor, spasming; however, the second rocketed up towards Sheik, curled into a fist like a meaty wrecking ball.

Sheik vanished into the shadows again, this time reappearing behind the second fist just as it passed; his second arrow caught it in the back of the palm, and it tumbled into the chasm, twitching like its brother.

 _“No!”_ the demon cried, outraged. “ _No! You cannot defeat me, Sheikah! I am your darkness! I am part of your heart! Without me, you cannot exist!”_

"You're right," Sheik replied, vanishing and reappearing on the platform in front of the monster. "You're just the physical manifestation of the darkness that lurks inside me. Destroying you here won't get rid of you, not really."

He knocked another arrow, drawing the fletching to his cheek.

“But now I’ll always know who’s stronger.”

Shadows formed along the tip of the arrow, gaseous like smoke, before suddenly changing.

He wasn't really sure how he did it; another instinctual thing, perhaps. He reached out, not physically but mentally, emotionally, and grabbed the shadow… and tore it in half. The darkness evaporated into the air, sucked thirstily into the bowls of the Well, but the light remained on the tip of his arrow, glowing with all the radiance of the sun. It hurt his eyes to look at but was too much for the beast. It wailed, body thrashing, screaming for Sheik to stop.

He loosed the arrow and it struck the creature straight in its glowing red eye. There was an explosion of effulgent light and a terrified scream, and when his vision cleared he was alone.

Sheik stood still, taking in the silence all around him. He’d done it… He’d overcome the darkness in his own heart. It was still there, still aching inside of him, but the wound wasn’t smarting as fiercely as it had before. It was almost as though it had scabbed over, tender new flesh shielding the pain.

If darkness came from hate and malice, and light came from love… Then it made sense that Shadow, a combination of the two, would inevitably result in sorrow. Both forces, in equal measure, could only result in misery and anguish. Yet he’d driven off the darkness in his heart with light… He dulled the pain with love. Maybe that was the answer he’d been searching for… There would never be an end to his pain, forgiveness could never be found… but life could still have meaning. He could do better this time around. His darkness brought him to the light. He may dwell in the shadows, but that was alright.

“You’ve passed the test.”

He wasn’t surprised. He’d felt her coming.

Sheik turned to face his mother, no longer needing to look through the Lens of Truth. He didn’t even know where the lens was; it had probably fallen off the platform during the fight or been crushed by the drumming hands. No matter, he didn’t need it anymore. He could see his mother plain as day now, the same crossed arms, the same flat expression…

“You’ve become a true Sheikah Warrior.”

Sheik looked himself over; he didn’t look any different, and yet… he felt like he could feel the shadows writhing around him, like an extra sense. If he wanted, he could fade into them and reappear anywhere there was darkness. Oddly, he felt like he could close his eyes and point to his mother, no matter where she was in the room. It was almost like… he could sense the dead. It felt wrong. With a certainty that hurt, he knew she wasn’t supposed to be here.

“I guess so,” he laughed, knowing it sounded fake but trying to ignore the thoughts that were creeping up in his mind. He’d never asked himself this, but… why had his mother come to visit him from the dead in the first place

“You have passed the masked boy’s trial. You may return to the museum and find your friends.”

A blinding blue light appeared in the center of the platform, its shimmering rays stretching high towards the ceiling.

“But before you go, Sheik, there are things I must tell you…”

Their eyes met, and Sheik found himself nodding in acceptance.

“First, I must inform you of your duties.”

“My duties?”

She nodded curtly. “Yes. As the only living Sheikah warrior, you have been handed our race’s ancient task- you must protect the Royal Family at all cost.”

Sheik rolled his eyes. “Not this again- Mom, listen to yourself. There is no Royal Family anymore. Hyrule has a democracy now, we’ve got a Prime Minister. The Royal Family is lost.”

“The Sheikah were also lost, until tonight.” His mother replied, effectively shutting him up. “The bloodline of the Royal Family may have been forgotten through the ages, yet there is always a Princess. There must always be a Princess. The Princess of Destiny, one of the Goddesses’ Chosen, bearer of the Triforce of Wisdom… She is close by.”

“What, in the Well?” Sheik asked, horrified. “What is she doing here?!”

"You're not in the Well," Impa answered bluntly. "You were never in the Well. This place is modeled after the Well, it is true, yet your body never left the museum. You are still there."

Sheik’s jaw dropped. “Holy…”

“Find the Princess, our Lady.” She continued. “Guarding her, guiding her, sheltering her, is the most important task our people have. It is the reason our people swore fealty to the Royal Family; not for their sake, but for her. Find the Princess.”

“Wait, what? The Sheikah were the lapdogs of the Royal Family just to protect some princess?”

“She is more than just a princess… but that is all I can say. You must find out for yourself. The both of you, together. History is repeating itself here tonight, and the Princess is at the center of it all. You must save her, Sheik.”

"Ok, alright, I'll find her," Sheik muttered.

“Good. You have one more task. As the only surviving Sheikah, and as the blood of the Sages has been passed down in your veins… Sheik, you must know: you are the Sage of Shadow.”

When Sheik didn't react to this news, she continued. "This means you are the guardian of our people, a leader in our country, and a being of incredible spiritual significance. Only one of such power could have wielded the Light Arrow as you just did. You must find the other Sages and, most importantly, the Seventh Sage, the leader of you all. Only together is your strength great enough to have an impact on the events about to come to pass. The very fate of the world may yet rest on your shoulders."

“Wait wait wait.” Sheik blurted out, exasperated. “How can I be a leader of a people who don’t exist? And now I have to find some seventh Sage? I thought I had to find the Princess? Which one comes first?”

“Neither. The Princess and the Seventh Sage, the Sage of Time… they are one and the same. As for our people, you must rebuild. The world is changing. You must guide them forward.”

For the first time in as long as he could remember, he found himself admitting an insecurity to his mother.

“W-what?! But…! I’m no leader! I can’t even take care of myself, let alone an entire people! Our culture, our magic… I don’t understand any of it!”

“Sheik.” He shut his mouth instantly, caught off guard; was that… gentleness in his mother’s voice? “You don’t have to worry. Leadership will come to you naturally. And you will not be alone; the spirits of the departed Sheikah will be with you on the other side, sending you strength… The other Sages will also support you, and you have your friends …”

To say Sheik was surprised was an understatement; this was the single most comforting, kind, and downright nice thing his mother had ever said to him.

"As for our culture… do your research, and you will find it. Much of the past remains in our sacred lands, the village of Kakariko. But this is a task for another day, when you are older and the world is not in peril. For now, you must simply know that life and death are the Goddesses' domain, and we are merely the watchmen… Making sure the balance remains intact. Often, when one dies too young, before their time, their spirits return in an attempt to finish what they could not in life. At such times, it is the Sheikah's job to put the spirit to rest and ease their suffering, through any means necessary. The dead… should stay dead…"

Sheik’s throat had gone dry. He couldn’t quite bring himself to form the question he wanted to ask.

“Then… then why…?”

"I had unfinished business," Impa answered simply. "The future of our people… the redemption of our race… the wellbeing of the son I failed to care for."

Sheik felt his entire body lock up. No… This was too much… He didn’t want to have this conversation right now… Not ever…

“I failed you as a mother, Sheik. Your darkness… it stems from me, and you know it, deep down. The dark paths you’ve walked, your hatred of our people, all because I was not there for you as I should have been, did not teach you what was right, did not support you or show you the love you deserved…

“Death does not bring redemption for the crimes we commit in life, but sometimes, Goddesses willing, the pain you cause is not eternal. Peace can be found. Such peace I have found, Sheik… I failed you in life, but you have grown into a man fit to lead our people in a new age and fight alongside the Hero and the Princess for Hyrule’s salvation. I may not have shown you the love you needed, but you had friends who helped you along. I am grateful…”

Before Sheik’s eyes, he saw the image of his mother beginning to fade, and through his newfound senses, he knew that she was not simply disappearing; she was returning to the other side. The dead should stay dead.

“Mom…” Sheik gasped, heart thudding painfully in his chest, not sure what to say as the woman he’d convinced himself he hated began to fade forever before his eyes.

“Go on, Sheik. Be strong. Find the Princess. Save the world. And if there ever comes a time when you look back at the woman who let you down, remember… All beings make mistakes, even some for which there can be no excuse. Forgive them anyway, Sheik… Only then can the balance between dark and light be maintained… I tried to love you, I just didn’t know how… I’m sorry.”

And she was gone.

The bow trembled in Sheik’s grip, but the tears that flooded his eyes did not fall. He swallowed gruffly, lowered his head, and remained still until the emotions passed.

There would be time to think on his mother, on her departing words and the reason her soul saw fit to defy the Goddesses’ laws and return to the world of the living, but that time was not now. Sheik had friends to save, a Princess to find, and a world to protect. It was his duty, as a Sheikah, as a Sage, and as a living person.

Stepping forward, Sheik entered the pillar of glowing light, and in a moment found himself back in the museum, in the exhibit on Kakariko Village. One day he would have to take a visit to the actual city. He’d ask Midna to join him. She always did like the Shadowfolk… and now, he did too.

Something inside of him surged with warning, like a threat looming overhead, but not over him… Without knowing why or where, he let himself fade into the Shadows, trusting them to guide him.

The Princess was in danger.

 

 

 


	15. His Other Half

Zelda’s footsteps echoed hauntingly off the silent museum walls. Morning light was beginning to flood the large building from various capacious windows and the lights that illuminated the displays had begun clicking themselves on; no doubt they operated on some sort of timer, but the lack of shadows made her feel infinitely more at ease traveling alone through this large, seemingly empty building.

Actually, if she was being honest, the whole thing was almost… peaceful. If she could ignore the tingling feel of powerful dark magics making her skin prickle as well as the torrential maelstrom of memories surging through her head like a hurricane through the Phantom Isles, she’d even say she was quite enjoying herself. If she was being honest, this was the scenario she’d imagined for herself and Link as they perused Castleton’s Museum of National History, examining the various facets of the Hero and Princess’s past lives, their lives, and the times and trials they’d shared together.

Sure, maybe she should have expected it to be noisier and more crowded, that she could handle; Link being in jail and her friends being in mortal danger, that bit she hadn’t expected. She was dealing with it, though. She _would_ deal with it. It was her duty as Princess to keep Hyrule safe, its land and its citizens. Her Hero in chains and her crown lost to time, it didn’t matter. Whatever it took, she would do what needed to be done.

…Unless what needed to be done involved finding the Hyrule Castle exhibit.

Zelda stopped at another intersection, this one leading to Death Mountain, and frowned heavily. She was absolutely certain that she’d passed by the Castle exhibit the day before with Kafei and Anju and it had been somewhere over here… Only now as she looked around, she couldn’t find it anywhere. She’d passed the woods, Kakariko Village, the Gerudo Desert, Lake Hylia and the Zora River, even Lon Lon Ranch’s exhibit full of wax cows and plush Cuckoo hats. For the love of Nayru, the castle had to be around here somewhere, right? Right?!

Something sort of buzzed faintly in Zelda’s ear, and she grew quiet. All around her the Museum was still.  Was that… someone’s voice?

A puzzled frown crossed her face. Hearing voices no one else could was normal for Zelda. Gifted as she was with the Triforce of Wisdom, she could speak to the Goddess Nayru and seek wisdom and guidance. Oftentimes, Nayru would contact her unexpectedly to warn her of impending danger; the same had happened just last night. Only this time… Something was different. The voice was faint, too faint to make out what it was saying, though something about it gave the impression of great distance, as though it were calling from far away.

And for some reason, she was convinced it was the voice of a child.

Silly thoughts of hot dogs washed from her mind, Zelda pushed herself away from the wall and slowly walked back down the hallway, eyes carefully scanning the walls, ears listening as hard as they could. The voice came again, soft and unintelligible, yet the sound filled Zelda’s heart with inexplicable anguish. A sudden desperation tore through her and she redoubled her pace, eager to find the source of the voice.

“Where are you?” She whispered to herself as she prowled down the hall, feet tapping softly on the tiled floor, “Who are you? What are you saying? Help me find you…”

“ _…e. Plea…”_

Zelda’s breath caught as she neared the entrance to the next exhibit. Glancing inside, she couldn’t tell for sure what it was. She’d passed it by earlier assuming it was part of the Kakariko exhibit, but…

“ _Help me! Get me out of here! Somebody, help!”_

The voice, still so distant, was coming from inside this room… It was definitely a child, and definitely sounded in distress, and yet… Could this be a trap? Some clever ruse used by Ghirahim to capture her and put an end to her meddling? Come to think of it, he was the one who had suggested she go to the Castle exhibit in the first place. Why on earth was she following his advice?! He was the bad guy!

A soft whimper could be heard, so faint that Zelda almost thought she was imagining it.

What would Link do in this scenario? He was the Hero, he was the human personification of Courage. He wouldn’t hesitate to rush into this room, desperate to find the owner of the voice and help them, even if it was a trap. He hadn’t hesitated to rush to her aid on countless occasions, or to push Marin out of the way of that car, or save those orphans from that smelly hobo. If she was taking his place, then she needed to think and act like he did. Besides, if someone really was in danger, it was her duty to help them; she was the Princess, after all.

Summoning another ball of flame into her hand, she steadied herself and walked into the room, ready for danger.

The second her foot crossed the threshold, her surroundings changed, and quite suddenly she found herself in a courtyard.

There had been no flash, no sparkle, no profusion of light; one moment she was in the museum, and the next she was surrounded by ancient trees and neatly combed hedges. A fine morning mist enveloped her, and the sun had yet to climb high enough in the sky to be seen beyond the incredible stone ramparts of a truly massive, beautiful castle.

Zelda’s jaw dropped. To say the vision she was seeing was an absolutely stunning example of medieval architecture was the understatement of the century, but it wasn’t just the sheer beauty of the place, equal parts noble and fey, that kept her breathless; it was the overwhelming surge of familiarity that overpowered her the moment she realized what she was seeing.

Slightly overcome, she took a step back as though to return to the museum through whatever portal she’d unknowingly stepped through, only to find she was still in the castle courtyard. Apparently, whatever had brought her here did not want her to leave. That was a sobering thought; somebody wanted her here for a reason, and given the circumstances she and her friends currently found themselves in, it probably wasn’t a very nice reason.

Still… a sort of longing rose up within her as she examined the ionic, fluted porticoes and the dew-covered rose bushes, vines climbing up the age-old ramparts, and the carpet of leaves below her feet. Somewhere deep inside, she knew; she was home. This was Hyrule Castle.

Picking a direction, she reignited the fireball that had extinguished with her shock and slowly exited the beautiful inner gardens, taking her first step into Hyrule Castle proper.

Part of her wondered in what age and era she was seeing the Castle represented. It was hard to discern from her memories alone; they were still so scrambled, and from what little she’d seen so far it’d be impossible to differentiate. She could say with honesty, however, that she’d never seen the gardens so overgrown…

The inside portion of the castle was dark, the only light filtering through from the many windows and balconies that adorned the palace. Zelda could still see thanks to the ball of fire in her hand, though what she saw didn’t put her at ease. Rich red carpets and embroidered tapestries lined the walls, and yet… Torch brackets remained unlit, piles of leaves and dirt blown in from outside lay in clumps along the walls, and a fine layer of dust could be seen along nearly every surface. Any thought of bumping into a maid or kitchen wench vanished from her mind. The castle had clearly been abandoned, and yet there was no sign of looting or decay. She gave the abandonment a few weeks at most, perhaps a couple of months. She wondered what could have driven the people away.

She hadn’t felt any temporal flux upon entering the castle courtyard, which could only mean one thing: she was still in the present. And, since there weren’t any castles in such good condition anymore, that could only mean that she wasn’t in an actual castle. And that left only one other option…

Closing her eyes, Zelda extended her palms and took a slow, even breath, letting it out in a steady sigh. All around her, she extended tendrils of magic, touching the stones of the building, feeling the carpets, the vases, the very air, searching…

Her brows furrowed together. What she was feeling was real, and yet… not. So this wasn’t a hallucination, and yet… it wasn’t actually here either. Powerful dark magics were at work, actively summoning this castle in which she stood. A fictional reality. Almost like a separate plane of existence that had been magically photo-shopped onto the real one, directly within the confines of this museum. So she was in a castle, probably an actual castle that had once existed, and yet it was little more than a strangely intricate model. But why? For what reason?

Zelda let her eyes snap back open. So. She was in a contained fictional reality that someone had gone through a tremendous amount of difficulty to prepare for her. They would have needed an object of unbelievable magical might to create and sustain it. The complexity of such a task, the strain it would put on the castor… Why would anybody ever do such a thing?

The only thing that was obvious was that whoever they were up against was inordinately powerful, and maybe even a little bit insane. Unfortunately, Zelda could see no other course of action than to continue exploring the castle. What was most likely a trap had just evolved into undoubtedly a trap. She would need to keep her wits about her if she wanted to come out on top. Nayru, give her strength…

Her footsteps were soft and muffled on the dusty carpet, and she was grateful that they didn’t echo. The lack of sound was starting to get to her, however. There was nobody in this castle. She was completely alone. Well, that made sense; magically speaking, it was one thing to create a location out of nothing, another to create a person. Creating a location, such as this castle, was merely ludicrously difficult. Creating a person was impossible. You could create copies of people, hollow representations based off of real-life examples with limited reactions and capabilities, sure, but an actual person could not be created magically without sacrificing a living being first.

Human souls were impossible to duplicate, only a god could amass enough knowledge and energy. It’s part of why they were so revered. There were many gods and goddesses in the Hyrulian pantheon, yet only Din, Nayru, and Farore were accredited with creating life. Human attempts always resulted in monsters.

 “ _Somebody, please! Help me!”_

Zelda jumped, clutching at her chest as the voice echoed throughout the hall. Goddesses, she’d forgotten!

Thoughts of the voice being the lure for a trap fled from her mind as she tore through the halls, no longer concerned about silence or being discovered. The voice had been far louder than it had been when she’d heard it in the museum, but it still sounded muffled and far away. The corridors of the ancient castle were quiet and empty, however, as she rounded corner after corner, air burning in her lungs as she scanned empty room after empty room. Where was the voice coming from?!

Finally, Zelda reached the end of a hallway, took a sharp right, and found herself in a large, beautiful entryway. Before her lay a short balcony with carved wooden railings overlooking a statue of a man bearing a sword. On either side of the balcony staircases descended into the main section of the room, which had been lined with Doric pillars. The ceiling was painted, depicting various scenes of the creation of the world, and the floors were of dark stone covered with a lush red carpet.

She couldn’t see where the voice might be coming from. What she did see had her summoning another fireball in an instant.

The boy with the skull designed t-shirt let out a strange, echoing laugh from behind his mask, which rattled as it shook.

“Ha! Took you long enough to notice me. I was starting to think I was going to have to spit on you to get your attention!”

Zelda ignored him. Something about him suddenly registered in her mind, but it wasn’t the fact that he was floating thirty feet off the floor.

His mask… Majora’s Mask… She’d thought it just a silly prop, but… If it really was the Majora’s Mask from legend, then it was definitely a magical artifact of incredible supernatural strength, enough to sustain the creation of this building. What was a little boy doing with it?

“Are you the one who created this castle?” Zelda asked, voice steady as she slowly inched closer to the balcony.

The masked boy paused in his laughter, cocking his head to the side and examining Zelda curiously.

“…not bad, Princess. You figured that one out fast. Your friends aren’t so smart.”

Her friends…? Had they been here too, or…? No, but then how would they have come into contact with…? Was he creating multiple artificial realities?!

“But why?!” Zelda spluttered despite herself. “What’s the point?! The strain must be enormous…!”

The masked boy snickered again, clutching his stomach as though he could barely contain himself.

“So you figure out the first part but don’t bother to follow through with the second, and just expect me to give you the answer? No way! That’s no fun at all! I’m just gonna make you work for it!”

For a moment, Zelda thought he was going to leave. Desperate for more answers, she flung out the first thing that popped into her head.

“Were you the one calling for help?”

The boy snorted, “No, that was a _girl._ Do I sound like a girl to you?”

For a moment, his voice lost some of the eerie, echoing quality it held and almost sounded like what you’d expect from a small boy. In a moment it was back to creepy as he continued giggling.

“Where is she?!”

“I’m not going to tell you!” The boy sing-songed playfully, only furthering Zelda’s irritation.

“Then why are you here?!”

“Just to see how you’re doing. Ghirahim thinks he gets to have all the fun, but he forgets that this is my game.”

Zelda frowned. She had thought the man with the cape and white hair had been the one in charge, but the masked boy almost seemed as though he were challenging his authority… If the two villains were at odds with each other, and she could widen the gap, then maybe…

“Ok, fine. I have an idea. You want to play your games, and that’s ok. But I’m not going to get very far by myself, and it’s got to be pretty boring just watching me walk around in circles for hours. Why don’t you give me a hint to help speed things along? It’ll be more fun for you that way.”

She could see she had piqued his interest. He may be wielding a weapon of phenomenal dark power, but at heart, he was still a child.

“…Giving out hints is cheating. I don’t like cheaters.”

“Fine, don’t give me a hint about the game. Give me a hint about something else. Tell me who’s behind all this. Is it… Is it Ganondorf?”

She wasn’t sure what made her say it. The purpose behind her asking for a hint was so that she could ask who was in charge, and hopefully get the masked boy to claim he was, potentially driving a fight between him and the man in the cape. However, the moment she opened her mouth to ask, a dark, sinister feeling came over her, and the image of the Nightmare in Happy’s office turning into Ganondorf popped into her head.

She suddenly felt foolish for asking. It was impossible, wasn’t it? Ganondorf couldn’t be behind this… He had died last year when Link had tackled him out of Sahasralah’s window. He was gone forever and never coming back.

Only he always came back. Always. And there was something off about the way he’d died last year, something that she couldn’t quite put her finger on…

The masked boy had grown still. The bulbous eyes of his tribal mask were gazing at her with a seemingly zealous fixation, making her skin crawl. She felt violated under that gaze but refused to let it show.

Finally, the boy shook his head.

“You want a hint? Well fine, you can have a hint. Just remember, you asked for it.”

Before Zelda could respond, his mask was shaking again, just as it had in the storage room when she, Colin, and the fox-mask boy had been separated. Only this time, the darkness that surged from the mask didn’t envelope her and whisk her away to a different local; instead, the dark shadows converged on the ceiling of the entryway, surging like a tumultuous thunderstorm until, with an unearthly roar of rage, a massive dark figure erupted from the darkness, descending slowly from the ceiling.

It was a giant puppet.

A marionette might be the better description, for the creature was suspended from the ceiling by a series of thick cables that extended out of the swirling darkness. The monster was mostly made up of a collection of large spherical segments, all of a dark purple color, iridescent like the carapace of a beetle, that formed together into a humanoid shape complete with four limbs and a long tail. The chest was one large, rectangular piece that rather resembled a breastplate, and the skull came with two glowing yellow eyes, two horns, and a gaping maw that would be comical had the entire creature not given off the air of a psychotic playhouse toy from a horror movie.

The puppet had been painted with yellow and lavender swirls, and stylized tusks had been added to its face, giving it the appearance of a large boar.

A large boar… Where else had she seen a large boar?

The image of her fight with the Nightmare in Happy’s office came back to her once more, and she remembered the shadows taking on the form of a massive humanoid pig, right after she’d blasted the pseudo-Ganondorf to pieces.

Was this her answer?

Lost in thought, she hardly noticed the string attached to the puppet's arm begin to jerk until it was almost too late. She barely managed to dive out of the way as a massive limb smashed down onto the balcony where she was standing, destroying the railing and shattering the stone beneath her.

Gathering her wits, Zelda pushed herself to her feet, ignoring the rips in the knees of her pants and hurled a fireball at the creature’s chest.

The ball of magical flame exploded with a hollow gong, causing the monster to swing back and forth, but no actual damage was dealt to its shiny breastplate. Frustrated but hardly ready to give up, Zelda took off at a run down the stairs and into the main floor of the entryway, ducking between pillars, sizing up her enemy.

The masked boy had vanished. When had that happened? Was he truly gone, or was he watching her from the shadows, unwilling to give up his game? None of that mattered now; she needed to focus on the monster before her.

The creature danced tauntingly, limbs jerking in time to the strings that guided its movement, but it seemed to move slowly, beady yellow eyes trying and failing to follow her path as she circled around behind him. That was when she noticed that the final segment of the creature’s tail was unlike the others; it was a large, sparkling blue crystal.

She summoned another fireball, determined to give shooting the crystal a try, but hesitated as she watched it twitch back and forth like an agitated cat. It was moving too fast… She could try to time it, but she risked exhausting herself before she managed to hit the crystal, and there was no guarantee it was going to work, anyway…

Her eyes alighted on the puppet strings and another idea blossomed in her head.

Aiming her palm up, she fired the ball of compressed fame and watched in satisfaction as the string that held the tail in the air snapped and sizzled away, forcing the tail to droop lifelessly to the floor. Success! Now she could strike the crystal unimpeded! Only now the puppet had nearly turned all the way around and was looking ready to take another swipe at her.

Acting preemptively, she shot two more fireballs and severed the cords holding aloft the arms, preventing the creature from taking another swipe at her. She fired a third and severed the cord that held the head up for good measure.

Ha, that was easy! Now for the crystal…

The fiery explosion caused the glistening surface of the iridescent gem to fracture, and for a fleeting moment, Zelda actually thought she'd won.

Then the creature jumped as though yanked by the single string that remained connected to its back, and as its body flopped into the air, the spheres began rearranging themselves with incredible speed until, as it landed back onto the floor with a crash that shook the building, it was no longer the same monster.

Two massive body segments, eight long legs, and the same boar-like face glowering down at her with a distaste that could almost be called artful. Zelda was now facing a spider-pig marionette.

For the love of all that was good in this world, why couldn’t the monsters she fought stay the same shape?!

She could see the gem shining on the back of the monster’s abdomen. From where she was standing, trapped between the monster’s forelegs and facing its terrifying face, she couldn’t get a clear shot. Only, she wasn’t sure how it was supposed to attack her, seeing as all but one of the strings had been severed, so the monster couldn’t move its legs…

Once again acting preemptively, she fired a shot at the final string, only this time the cord would not sever. She supposed it was reinforced with some sort of magical protection. How wonderful for her.

Without warning, the spider began spinning, slowly at first but then with increasing speed, its legs sliding straight at Zelda. Alarmed, she raised a finger and snapped, teleporting back up to the balcony where the monster’s legs could not reach her.

She watched it spin impotently for a moment as she caught her breath. The legs bent ever so slightly as it twirled, barely missing the pillars that lined the room. She supposed she could have simply hidden behind them, but she didn’t want to risk them getting damaged and causing a building collapse. Besides, she had a much better view from up here.

When the spider finally began slowing to a stop, she fired another ball of flame and struck the crystal once more. She was rewarded with the sound of further cracking and the monster flinging up into the air yet again, body segments mutating until it landed on the ground in a new form, this time as a long, sinuous worm.

It was comprised of the same type of dark spherical segments, the pig face at the front and the cracked crystal on the end, though this time in addition to the yellow and lavender spirals on its body it bore a row of long red hair all along the ridge of its spine. She stared at it for a moment in consternation. A worm? Why on earth would it decide to become a worm?

All at once the monstrous puppet, still connected by one single solitary string began charging forwards with all the reckless abandon of a runaway locomotive. Limbless and without extra strings to guide it, the monster turned and twirled in random directions, violently slamming into walls and continuing on, unperturbed, at a speed that seemed unbelievable. Every time it struck a wall, dust and chips of stone showered down onto the carpeted floor. If Zelda didn’t finish this soon, it was liable to tear the entire building to pieces.

Igniting another fireball, she hurled it down at the pig-faced worm puppet below, but she knew it was futile almost as soon as the ball of flame left her hand. The magical flame traveled fast, but not near fast enough to catch up to the careening worm puppet, and it lacked the flexibility to make the wild, sporadic turns necessary to keep up with her foe. She tried twice more, just to be sure, but every time her ball of flame exploded harmlessly meters behind the enemy. If she had any hope of killing it, she needed to be closer.

With a reluctant sigh, knowing full well she was going to regret doing this, Zelda raised her right hand and snapped her fingers. In a flash of green and a blast of air, she found herself down amidst the pillars once more, watching the psychotic pig-worm rampage across the entryway, ready to strike.

Leaning against one of the aged stone pillars for support, already feeling a little winded from all of the magic she'd been casting, Zelda raised her palm and fired off another shot. The flaming orb sailed across the room, but as the worm slammed into the staircase and took another erratic turn, the explosion washed harmlessly across a brick wall.

Zelda growled impatiently. Din, she still wasn’t close enough…  She would need to get closer still if she wanted to end this before the castle came crashing down on top of her. But going out into the middle of the entryway to duel with this hulking monstrosity was like asking for a one-way ticket to the Sacred Realm. Zelda was no athlete, there was no way she could hope to outrun this thing or dodge out of the way if it turned. Her only hope was to wait for an opening and hope it didn’t decide to turn back around.

She waited with bated breath until the monster had reached the far side of the room towards the oddly placed stones she’d noticed earlier and, as soon as its back was turned, she raced forwards. Her flats slapped noiselessly on the dusty red carpet, and she was grateful that the sound wouldn’t give her away… actually, could the puppet even hear? It didn’t have any ears that she could see… Well, anyway, it remained where it was as she approached, slamming its face mindlessly into the stones, ignorant of the approaching princess and the ball of fire she was creating behind him…

The moment she loosed the fireball, the creature turned away from the stones that were impeding its progress and whirled towards the pillars across from her. Zelda swore loudly as the ball of flame missed once again, only as she raised her hand to try once more, the creature collided with a particularly frail looking support beam and, with an ominous creak, the pillar began falling over.

Avoiding the puppet she'd been prepared for. Dodging falling pillars was another thing altogether. The pillar collided with another pillar, which toppled down onto a third like dominoes, and the three pillars crashed onto the ground right in front of her, bringing with them a section of the balcony they'd been supporting, and they smashed into the ground and exploded in a wave of dust and stone fragments.

The force of the impact sent chunks of stone flying, Zelda among them, and she hit the wall beside the fallen balcony with a painful crunch, landing in a heap atop brick fragments and chunks of mortar.

Her ribs ached, her head spun, she still couldn’t breathe, and a warm sensation dripping into her eye told her she’d cut her forehead somewhere along her flight and was bleeding pretty nastily. A throbbing sensation on her lip had her testing them gently with her tongue, only to discover she’d busted it and it was starting to swell. Groaning, she pushed herself upright on shaky limbs, seeing the shoulder of her shirt torn open, and the hole in the left knee of her pants had widened considerably. Goddesses, who knew being a Hero was so taxing on your wardrobe? She really liked this outfit, too…

Another crash sounded out across the room, and she looked up to see the monster had returned to the opposite wall, smashing itself harmlessly against the staircase. If she was lucky, he’d stay occupied over there until her strength returned, but if she was being honest with herself things didn’t look too good at the moment. Restoring her magic enough to fight would take more time than she could reasonably expect, and even if it did come back, the monster was simply too fast for her to kill with a standard fireball. Loath as she was to admit it, she needed help. If only Link were there… Or maybe if the Goddesses saw fit to lend a hand every once and awhile…

As if bidden by her words, a lone figure stepped out of the shadows of one of the still-standing pillars. Zelda blinked several times as she stared at him, both to make sure she wasn’t hallucinating and because she needed to double-check what he was wearing. The outfit was a little strange, but she’d recognize the symbol on his chest anywhere, even if she hadn’t had countless lifetimes of personal experience to draw upon.

It was the Sheikah symbol. And he was wearing a traditional Sheikah warrior outfit. A Sheikah had come to save her? Did the Sheikah clan even still exist? Where had he come from? What in the world was going on?!

The warrior wore a cowl over his face so she couldn’t get a good look at him, but he regarded her with a look of surprise and alarm, presumably over the state she was in, and then turned his attention to the source of the commotion. Even across the dark room, she could see the anger flash across those scarlet irises.

Still short of breath, she was unable to call out a warning as he calmly strode down the dusty red carpet, now covered in debris, and approached the runaway worm puppet. The monster smashed into the stairs once more before turning and heading straight for the Sheikah. She expected him to leap out of the way; instead, he hefted the bow she only now realized was gripped in his hand, drew an arrow from the quiver on his back, and disappeared.

To a normal person, it would have seemed as though he’d merely vanished. As attuned as she was to magic, however, she was able to watch his body fade into the shadows and travel up through the air where he appeared atop the staircase where she’d been standing earlier, arrow drawn, aiming down at the creature’s fractured blue weak spot.

All at once the arrow erupted in light, the brilliant rays blinding her, illuminating the entirety of the darkened chamber. He loosed the arrow at the unsuspecting puppet, and in a moment the monster was rocked by an explosion of light. The crystal fractured even further, and out of the explosion came a salvo of light particles which erupted like fireworks, twisting in midair and converging on the gemstone. There was a blinding flash of light and a wordless roar of rage, and in an instant the puppet was gone, vanishing as suddenly into the darkness as he had appeared, as simply as any shadow is driven off by the light.

Zelda slumped back against the wall, relieved. Leave it to a Sheikah to save her when all hope seemed lost… Come to think of it, she usually had Sheikah protectors in her past lives. The only question was, where had this one come from, and how did he exist in a world that was devoid of magic?

She didn't have to wait long to find out. In a moment the Sheikah had shadow traveled back down to the ground floor and was swiftly approaching her with a steady, confident gait. He looked the Sheikah part to a tee, with the exception of the bow in his hand. Zelda hastily drew herself up, trying her best to look regal and in control, not wanting her first impression to be one of pathetic helplessness.

She shouldn’t have bothered.

“So,” the figured drawled languidly as soon as he was within speaking range, “there I was, minding my own business, hanging out in the depths of hell in traditional Sheikah fashion, catching up with the spirit of my dead mom, when all of the sudden I get this magical warning…”

His voice was younger than she had expected, and shockingly familiar. With surprising adroitness, the boy leaped atop a fallen pillar and crouched down, perching on the edge and looking down at her like a curious bird.

“…The Princess is in trouble. Well, Goddesses forbid that a Sheikah be busy. Everyone knows that when the hoity-toity Princess needs saving, the rest of the world needs to drop what they’re doing and fly into action. I honestly don’t know how your Hero puts up with it. It’s probably because he’s an idiot. In fact, I can say from personal experience that he is, without a doubt, the biggest idiot I’ve ever met. But then I guess that makes me an even bigger idiot for not catching on until right now.”

Had it been anyone else talking to her like that, talking about Link like that, Zelda would have been infuriated. As it was, when it finally clicked in her head who she was talking to, a wave of relief and affection flooded through her, and she felt her defenses lower.

Throwing on an unimpressed look, she answered, “I’m sure your girlfriend would agree, but we can talk about that later. What exactly are you doing here…”

She reached up and tugged his cowl down so she could see her friend’s face properly.

“…Sheik?”

He shot her a wry grin. “Well, I could ask you the same thing, Zelda. Wandering through castles, fighting monsters… I was under the impression I’d been sent to help a Princess.”

“You’re looking at her.” She replied calmly, returning his piercing gaze with one of collected serenity.

He seemed prepared for her answer. “Now that can’t be right… My best friend, the Princess of Destiny? Heir to the Hyrulean Throne? Leader of the Seven Sages? You’d think that she’d have mentioned that at some point after all we’d been through together… There were several opportune moments. Last weekend at the movies, for example; Aryll was talking about what we were going to do after college, and you could’ve said something like ‘oh I don’t know, maybe save the world, retake my kingdom, destroy the King of Evil’. Anything would have worked, really.”

Zelda rolled her eyes. “Nobody’s retaking any kingdom… And stop playing the martyr, you wouldn't have believed us anyway. Now, are you going to help me up or not?"

“As my Princess commands.” Sheik quipped sarcastically, stepping off the pillar and offering her a hand.

"She does," Zelda replied, not in the mood for Sheik's antics. "How did you get here?"

“I told you. I was down in the Well, going through this dumb Sheikah trial, when-“

“In the where?”

“The Well. Well, not really the Well, I guess I was still here in the museum, but like my mom’s ghost was there, and there were all these zombies, and-“

“Is that why you reek of death?” Zelda asked, pinching her nose and leaning away disgustedly.

He grinned sheepishly, tugging his cowl back up over his nose. “Oh, yeah… Sorry. I was literally wading around in it for the last couple of hours. I think I’ve gone nose-blind though, I can’t really smell it anymore.”

“Ew…”

“So anyway, I’m down in the Well with my mom-“

His words were interrupted by the sudden grating sound of stone against stone. Behind them, the statue of the swordsman began shifting aside, revealing a large hole underneath and a staircase leading down.

All at once, Zelda remembered the voice crying for help (which she’d forgotten about, again; she was really doing a bad job at this ‘hero’ thing). Seizing Sheik’s forearm, she all but dragged him back across the velvet, dust-covered carpet towards the opening they’d created, eager to see what was hidden below.

As they neared, the figure of a small girl came stumbling out of the opening.

She was small in every sense of the word; short, thin, and young, no older than eight or nine. Her eyes were wide and red-rimmed from all the crying, though were a startlingly clear periwinkle. Her hair was unique; a pixie cut, colored a very light shade of blue, like the sky on a clear December morning, which was enough to draw attention. Even being friends with Kafei and Saria, two people who boasted rare natural hair colors, having hair that shade of blue was something Zelda had never seen before, at least not naturally. She was going to be very popular when she grew up. Or very teased. Or both.

The rest of her appearance wasn’t as remarkable. Her jean shorts were too big on her, stained and frayed, clearly second-hand. Her white tennis shoes were dog-eared and so scruffy they almost looked brown, and her t-shirt looked like it was maybe once supposed to be navy, but had faded so much it now appeared grey. Also, something about the girl seemed familiar, but she couldn’t think of what it might be…

The moment the little girl saw Zelda and Sheik approaching, her lip began to quiver, tears flooded her eyes once more, and she began to cry.

“Oh, sweetie!” Zelda gushed, falling to her knees in front of the girl and pulling her into a tight hug. “Shh! It’s ok, you’re ok now, we got you! You’re safe! Me and my friend are going to take care of you until we can get you out of here and back to your family, ok?”

“I-I don’t… have… a family…” the girl stammered between sobs.

“You don’t have a-?” And then she remembered where she’d seen the girl before.

“Are you… Are you one of the missing orphans?”

“The who?” Sheik asked, perplexed.

“Just before Link’s arrest, a bunch of children were reported missing from an orphanage. They’re the same kids Link rescued from that homeless man yesterday morning. I think she’s one of them. What’s your name, hun?”

“N-Navi…”

“It’s ok, Navi… Me and Sheik are going to keep you safe and get you out of here, ok?”

“Ok…”

“But what are missing orphans doing in the Museum of National History?” Sheik demanded, sounding baffled and annoyed. “What, did Ghirahim and that masked punk lock them up and make them play games too? What is the point of all this?! None of this makes sense!”

“Sheik.” Zelda said in a level tone that clearly meant ‘stop freaking out around the emotionally unstable child’, “We’re going to get to the bottom of this, ok? For now, we just need to keep a level head and think things through. Now, Navi?”

The little girl gently pushed herself away from Zelda and wiped the tears and snot off of her face. Lovely, her clothing was now even more ruined.

“Y-yeah?”

“Do you know why the people who left you here wanted to lock you under a statue?”

“No… They didn’t tell me anything. They only said I was gonna be stuck there till the Princess came and saved me…”

Zelda and Sheik exchanged guarded looks.

“So they planned me coming here and saving you? But why?”

“Is there anything else down in that hole?” Sheik asked.

Navi nodded. “There’s some water, like in a fountain. And there’s a picture of some triangles on the floor, and this golden music thing.”

“Golden music thing?” Zelda asked, confused.

“Um, yeah. I… I don’t know what it’s called. Um… Do you want to come see it?”

Zelda shot Sheik another look and he shrugged.

“I guess, yeah. Lead the way.”

She felt her heartstrings tug as the girl immediately took her hand and led her to the staircase.

"It was dark before you opened it up, so I couldn't see very well," Navi explained as the three made their way down the staircase, footsteps echoing lightly off the aged stone. “But the fountain kinda glows a little bit… I don’t really know how to explain it.”

“That’s ok, we’ll get to see it better for ourselves. Do you know where the other kids are? The ones from your orphanage?”

The girl shook her head. “No… We got separated. Two of the boys went out into the woods to play after dinner even though they weren’t supposed to. Tatl went to find them, but she never came back, and I didn’t want them to get in trouble, so I went after them. Some of the others followed me, but then this man in a cape found us, and…”

“It's ok, Navi," Zelda said after a moment when it became clear Navi couldn't continue. "We're going to find your friends and get you all out of here, ok?"

The little girl looked up at her with wide, innocent eyes. “Promise?”

“I promise.”

“Wow…” Sheik breathed in wonder.

Zelda glanced up. The fountain Navi had spoken of at the bottom of the staircase was a wonder to behold. The basin was made of white porcelain that glowed with an ethereal light, spraying brilliant cascades of water gently through the air with a soothing sort of trickling sound. The water droplets caught the glowing light from the fountain in midair and reflected them in thousands of different colors, giving the appearance that Zelda and company had stumbled across the source of all the world’s rainbows. 

In front of the fountain stood an altar, the type that was meant for offering prayer. Below it, as though to mark where to kneel, the Hyrulian Insignia had been engraved in gold. And on the altar, shimmering in the reflected light of the fountain, sat a small golden harp.

Sheik said something, but Zelda didn’t hear it. The moment her eyes fell upon the harp she was drawn to it like a bug to a flame. With deliberate steps she approached, kneeling humbly before the altar, drew a triangle over her heart, and reached for the harp.

As her fingers wrapped around the cool gold exterior, everything around her froze; thousands of water drops hung suspended in the air as though time itself had stopped moving.

A voice echoed in Zelda’s head.

_‘You have done well, my daughter.’_

It was Nayru. Zelda would have recognized her voice anywhere.

_‘Your trial, however, is just beginning. Three altars were constructed in Hyrule’s noble past to honor and worship the Goddesses of Creation… Take the harp before you and play it before the altars of my sisters and I, and the way forward shall be made clear to you. Make haste, for even now the enemy’s plans grow to fruition. Time is short. Trust in your companions; they will guide you on your quest. You must be strong. Hurry, daughter.’_

As soon as the voice stopped speaking, time recommenced and the droplets began falling again.

“Wow…” Zelda breathed.

“What?” Sheik asked, sounding impatient.

“I just… Nayru just spoke to me. I know the way forward. She says we have to find three altars so I can pray at them and find out what we need to do to stop this…. Whatever it is that’s going on.”

Sheik looked unimpressed. “So… basically we’ve gone on quests… to find out the quest… that we need to complete to find out what’s going on, and then probably go on another quest to stop that. Does anyone else think this is needlessly complicated?”

Zelda didn’t answer. She was looking at Navi, who was staring at her with apparent consternation.

“You talked to Nayru?”

“Yep.”

“Like, Nayru the Goddess?”

“Yep.”

“But… how did you…?”

“She’s the Princess, remember?” Sheik cut in. “The guys who told you said you’d have to wait here till the Princess came and saved you? Well here you go, kid- She’s the Princess of Destiny, Princess of Hyrule, Leader of the Sages, major pain in my-“

“Sheik!”

“You’re a princess?!” Navi asked, eyes growing wide with wonder.

"Yep," Zelda said once again, starting to feel rather foolish. "He’s my Sheikah bodyguard, my boyfriend is the Hero of Time, and we, Navi, are going to save the world. You ready?”

“We’re taking her with us?”

“Well we can’t leave her alone, right?”

Sheik sighed but nodded. Zelda held out her hand, and Navi hurried forward to grasp it.

“I- Yeah!”

“Well alright then, let’s get going!”

* * *

Tatl, Medli, and Makar were waiting patiently at a bus stop when Link returned, burlap sack clenched tightly between his teeth.

Tatl was now wearing a large floppy hat and neon pink rain jacket presumably to make her less easy to recognize in public. Makar looked bored, but Medli was twitching her feet nervously, a small, plastic bag crumpled up in her fist. He couldn’t help but put on a spurt of speed when he saw them; they were so close now… In just a few minutes, he’d be back to being human.

Tatl saw him first, and immediately leaped up off the bench she’d been sitting on, a wide grin splitting past the look of sour discontent that so often adorned her face. He’d need to talk to her about that when he was human again; the girl couldn’t go through life always frowning, people would think she needed medication. Medli noticed Tatl’s movement and turned to see what she was looking at just as Link padded under the awning and dropped the sack onto the empty seat beside Makar, making the nervous boy jump.

“Holy-!”

“Link!” Medli breathed, sounding frazzled. “You’re back! You took so long, we were getting worried-!”

“She was getting worried.” Tatl clarified haughtily. “I didn’t care.”

Link nudged her playfully with his nose and nodded towards the sack.

“Oh, are these the instruments?”

He nodded once more and sat on his haunches, panting. Well, go on now! He didn’t go through all that hard stealth work breaking into the opera house and stealing them for nothing!

Tatl translated, and Makar dove for the bag, hastily pulling out the violin Link had managed to snatch.

“Hey, what gives? This isn’t mine!” he exclaimed in outrage as he opened the case and took in the foreign musical instrument.

Link snorted and rolled his eyes.

“Get over it.” Tatl translated succinctly. If Link could’ve smiled, he would have. Farore, he liked this girl more and more. He could hardly believe he’d disliked her when they first met. She was still bossy and rude, sure, but now he found it hilarious rather than annoying. She could give Sheik or Midna a run for their money any day.

“Um…?”

Medli’s face was the very picture of pained surprise, kinda like when someone gives you a present and you have to pretend you like what you got even though it’s the last thing you ever wanted. Link couldn’t exactly blame her; the harp he’d stolen looked like a children’s toy, but the appearance didn’t matter so long as it could play.

“What in the Goddesses’ name is that?” Makar asked flatly.

“It’s a harp, stupid.”

“I know that, midget, I meant what kind is it? It looks ornamental.”

Tatl lifted her chin angrily. “I’m the midget? Look who’s talking! At least I can say I haven’t been through puberty yet.”

Makar’s face flushed red, but he kept quiet.

Link nodded towards Tatl to get her to explain.

“It’s the Harp of Ages. Link says he couldn’t find your guys’s instruments, so he did the best he could.”

Honestly, he hadn’t meant to steal the national treasure of Labrynna either, but they didn’t exactly have time to waste here, and someone had just left it sitting out on a table. Really, it was their fault, not his. Besides, he was pretty sure one of the old legends had him using it in a past life, so technically, it wasn’t stealing. Right? Wasn’t that how it worked?

Medli uttered a soft scream and dropped the harp back onto the sack, retracting her fingers as if burned. 

“T-this is the Harp of Ages?! But…! That’s the national treasure of Labrynna! They need this for the show tonight! Oh Goddesses, this is a serious theft! We could go to jail for this!”

Link barked.

“Can you play it?” Tatl translated.

"W-what? Oh, um…" Gingerly, as if what she was handling were made of porcelain, Medli hefted the ancient harp and gave it a gentle strum. The notes that danced through the air were beautiful and unexpectedly exotic. Something tickled at the back of his mind, like a long-forgotten memory, but he shook it away. He didn't have time for that now, he had a body to win back and friends to save.

While the others were mesmerized by the harp, Link was the only one to notice the bus rounding the corner down the street, heading their way. He barked to get their attention.

“Time to go!” Tatl chirped excitedly, stepping forward as if to climb back up onto Link’s shoulders.

“Ah, wait! Hold on!” Medli cried, carefully placing the harp back into the sack and handing it to Makar to do the same with the violin; while he fussed with the instruments, she opened the white plastic back she’d been holding in her hand and fished out a few objects.

“I’m sorry, Link, but if we have to take the bus to the Sacred Grove, then you need to put this on.”

It was a collar and a leash.

Link growled.

"Don't be like that," Medli said reprovingly, leaning forward and wrapping the collar around his neck. "It's against the law for dogs to be out in public without a leash. I picked these up while you were getting the instruments from the Opera House. I got Tatl’s new clothes there, too, and I’ve got some food for you both. It was a little bit expensive, but I’ll live. Besides, it’ll help with Tatl’s cover.”

“How?” Tatl asked, translating Link’s question.

“He’s your seeing-eye dog, remember?”

“But I’m not blind.”

“Says who?” Medli asked, taking a pair of sunglasses from the back and placing them on Tatl’s surprised face. “Now hold the leash and try not to move your head too much. We only need to pretend while we’re on the bus, but it’s the only way I can think of for them to let Link on. Animals aren’t supposed to be allowed on public transportation.”

“Fine…” Tatl grumped sulkily, taking Link’s leash and standing patiently behind Medli and Makar as the bus pulled to the curb and the doors opened. Link didn’t know what her problem was; she wasn’t the one wearing a collar. And what was that about food?

The bus driver put up a fuss initially, but backed down the moment that Medli, in a highly-affronted tone, told the man that her poor little blind sister needed the family pet to help her get around. The other passengers took up the cause; nobody messed with a cute little blind girl.

Medli guided Tatl to the handicapped seat while Makar paid the fee; she walked there a little too securely for a supposedly blind girl, but thankfully nobody was looking at her and everyone was looking at Link. An older lady was glaring at him sourly, waving her hand in front of her face as if he smelled bad. As the bus took off, a girl leaned over and said, “That’s the biggest seeing-eye dog I’ve ever seen. What breed is he?”

Medli looked stricken. “Oh, well, um, he’s also here to protect her. Y’know, like a guard dog. And, um, he’s… part husky?”

 The girl nodded thoughtfully.

The rest of the bus ride was relatively uneventful. It lasted roughly forty minutes, and by the time they pulled up in front of the Sacred Grove, Link’s limbs felt like jello. Busses weren’t meant for animals.

“Now what, boss man?” Makar asked, his tennis shoes crunching on the gravel parking lot, taking in the forest around him. The sky overhead was a clear, cloudless blue; it was a beautiful morning.

“What do you mean, now what? We go in!” Tatl answered, not bothering to wait for Link’s response as she shed her hat, jacket, and glasses and clambered up into his back, undoing his collar without needing to be asked.

“Just like that? Aren’t they going to make a fuss when we start playing instruments in front of the Master Sword?” Makar asked, shooting the tiny blond girl a flat look through his wire-framed glasses.

“I don’t think they’re open yet anyway." Medli murmured, peering curiously towards the gate that led into the grove. "I don't see anybody. We may have to wait a little while…"

Link let out a snort and began trotting forward.

“What- Link! Where are you going?”

"We're going in," Tatl answered dryly. "You coming or what?"

The sound of frantic footsteps behind them told him their answer.

When Link and Tatl had awoken that morning, they’d struggled over how they’d ever get out of the grove. A tall fence had been constructed around the perimeter of the enclosure, broken only by the grounds keeping shack he’d climbed atop of to enter and the small building that made up the gift shop and entryway to the grove. Worried that they’d have to stay there until someone found them when the monument opened for public access, Link had prowled the grounds until he found a spot along the perimeter where the dirt was loose enough to burrow under. As it turned out, he only needed to burrow a few feet to get under the gate, and the hole was easily large enough to Tatl to follow after.

When they returned to spot, the hole was still there, and all it took was a little more digging and a bit of convincing on Tatl’s part to get the teens to crawl through after them.

"Goddesses," Makar grunted, straightening his glasses and brushing the dirt from off of his clothes. "If we're wrong about this and this dog is just a stupid dog, I swear I'm going to bury you in that hole, Medli."

“Aw, you’re so sweet!” The redhead chirped sarcastically.

“So where’s this dumb sword?” He grunted, ignoring Medli’s giggling and adjusting his grip on the burlap sack.

Link felt a twitch of annoyance at the word ‘dumb’, but nodded ahead. They were only a few feet from the grove’s entrance. He could see the pillars and ruins of the ancient temple through the trees and vines. Over to the left was the entrance to the gift shop and tiny museum-esque portion that told of the sword’s history. He hadn’t paid that bit much attention when he’d been here the other day; he’d been too excited about actually seeing the sword. Come to think of it, there might have been something in there about the Sages of the Master Sword, lost somewhere between replicas of shields and sheaths hung up on the walls and the dull history of blacksmithing.

He wasn't sure if it was just general tiredness overcoming them, or if they could feel the same sense of anticipation and purpose flowing through the air that he could, but as they slowly made their way through the foliage towards the Master Sword, not one of them made a sound. The gentle morning sunlight danced off wind-tossed leaves and the crumpled remains of vine-covered pillars, and for a moment Link understood why this forest was given its name. There was something undoubtedly sacred about those woods, something fey and mysterious, as though a higher power had touched them and bathed them in spiritual light.

Lost in his thoughts, he didn’t notice they’d entered the grove proper until he heard Medli’s breath catch.

Link looked up.

There it was… The sword of destiny, his constant companion, his other half… Birthright of the Hero of Time. The Master Sword. Through a gap in the trees overhead, a solitary ray of light seemed to illuminate the blade on its pedestal, throwing into sharp contrast the various nicks and dents in the once-pristine blade and handle. It had lost its magic in the years that Hyrule had dwindled in disbelief, but no more… He’d found the Sages to set things right. Their moment had come. At last, he’d be free to be who he was always meant to be…

He didn’t notice how wrong the footsteps behind him sounded until it was too late.

There was a grunt and a shriek, and suddenly Tatl’s familiar weight was wrenched from off his shoulders.

Link whirled around, hackles raised, teeth bared, searching for the intruder, for the person who'd snuck up on them and had dared to lay hands on the little girl he'd sworn to protect, and froze.

To his shock, he found himself looking at himself.

It wasn’t actually him; for one thing, the real Link was a wolf at the moment, but the person who’d snuck up on them easily looked like he could have been Link’s twin. His human twin, that is. Same blonde hair, same face, same height, same body structure, same sadistic grin… Not that Link had a sadistic grin in his repertoire, but if he ever felt the need to pull one, it’d look just like that. The only difference was his eyes; they glowed red, not like the ruby irises of his friends Sheik and Midna, but with a sort of eerie luminescent quality that resembled live coals.

Whoever this doppelganger was, he was holding Tatl aloft in his arms, one hand crushing her body to his chest, pinning her arms so she couldn’t struggle, the other clamped tightly over her mouth. Her eyes were wide and fearful, tears billowing up as her pupils dilated and her nostrils flared, struggling to breathe through her own panicked squeaks.

His grin only grew more twisted as Link took in Tatl’s state and felt a bone-deep rage begin building within him.

“Hullo, Hero,” he said simply. They shared the same voice.

Medli and Makar stood motionless on either side of him, eyes wide with panic but arms and legs bound to their sides by swirling tendrils of darkness. Makar was struggling frantically against his magical bonds, but Medli stood stock-still, tears pouring down her pale face, begging Link for help. So, this wanna-be Link had snuck up on them, trapped his friends and threatened Tatl. Well, if it was a fight he wanted, then a fight he was going to get-

“Take one step and I snap her pretty little neck.”

Link froze, still enraged but suddenly uncertain. His grip on Tatl’s jaw was the deciding factor in his decision to remain where he was. All he needed to do was twist his arm and her neck would be broken. Nayru above, he was trapped…

“Good boy… You always were so easy to cow. The perfect little Hero, right up until the end. You disgust me.”

It was odd; there was factuality to his tone laced beneath the venom, a familiar sort of certainty as if they knew each other personally, and a contempt that seemed ancient. Who was this person wearing his face? Why did he seem so familiar?

“Oh, so you have forgotten… I’d wondered why you didn’t react as soon as the police showed you the tape. Well, I suppose it’s not all your fault; those Goddesses do love to play their little games. Well, I’ll go ahead and clarify for you then, Hero… I’m you. The Dark you.”

Link growled, fangs bared. Whoever this person was, he could apparently read his mind like Tatl. Dark him, huh? Well wasn’t that just beautifully cliché?

The Dark him shrugged. “Perhaps a bit. But then, so is the whole ‘good versus evil’, ‘light against darkness’ crap you’re always pulling with that Princess of yours. Not that I really care. I’m not here to have a heart to heart. I’m here because I’m sick of waiting.”

While he spoke, Link carefully surveyed the scene. With Medli and Makar imprisoned in magic and Tatl held hostage, there were no moves for him to make. He was stuck between a rock and a hard place.

Tears were running over the Dark Link’s fingers now, and a look of panicked desperation shone in Tatl’s eyes. Link’s gut wrenched painfully; Goddesses, he needed to find some way to save her, but how?!

“So many questions…” the Dark Link taunted softly, in that youthful, arrogant voice. “But I don’t have all the time in the world to answer them, and to be honest, I couldn’t care less how much you understand. Still, you’re taking too long, Hero, and I’m growing bored. I thought my previous actions would have been enough to grab your attention, but apparently not.”

Link snarled. What actions?

“Well, let’s count them, shall we? Framing you for theft and sending you to prison? That was me. Kidnapping the orphans? That was me. The disappearance of your friends from your hotel? Me again, though maybe not directly. But still, after all I’ve done, you kept me waiting… I hate waiting. So I decided to up the stakes.”

His hand tightened painfully on Tatl’s face making her cry out in fear and pain, and Link surged forwards, jaws agape, murder in his heart. There was a flash of metal and a burst of pain, and Link was flung through the air, landing in the bushes with a heavy crash, his ribs aching. Blinking his eyes open and struggling to stand, he found himself staring at the Dark him with sudden uncertainty in his heart.

“Link! _Link!_ ” Tatl screamed helplessly from his arms, mouth now free, but was summarily ignored by her captor, who had eyes only for him. Red eyes, that glowed with the promise of death. The hand that had covered her mouth now hung dispassionately at his side, a shining silver blade in his hand. So that’s how he’d knocked Link across the clearing… but he wasn’t bleeding. He must have struck him out of the air mid-leap with the flat of his blade; enough to break a few ribs, but not to kill him. But why? Why not cleave him in two when he had the chance?

“Defeating you holds no meaning if you’re not at full strength.” The Dark him answered hollowly. “Do not mistake this for chivalry. Killing you is all I exist for, but you must be at your best. I will bring you to your death, Hero. I will drag you down into the darkness where you belong. Get to your feet, retain your form, draw your blade, and then come to me. I’ll wait for you where the rest of your friends are being held, in the so-called Museum of National History. Make it fast, Hero, or I’ll slake my bloodlust with the lives of your loved ones… Starting with her.”

‘No!’ Link shouted in his mind, but all his wolf body managed was a feeble sort of yowl.

Darkness enveloped the Dark him, and he and his prisoner began to fade into the shadows. Tatl punched and kicked and screamed, but to no avail; she couldn’t escape the Dark Link’s grasp.

“Link!” She screamed, eyes wide, voice choked with tears and terror. Pleading. Desperately pleading. “Don’t let him take me! Link! Save me! _Link!”_

Ribs aching, lungs on fire, Link shoved himself to his feet through sheer force of will, but he was too late. Their eyes locked, Link was able to do nothing more than watch as the defenseless little girl was sucked into the darkness and her screams faded away. His last sight of her was of her wide, terrified eyes, pale tear-streaked face, arms held out, reaching, fingers clawing at the air… And she was gone.

At the edge of the clearing, the magic dissipated from Medli and Makar and dropped them to their knees on the grass.

“G-Goddesses…” Medli choked softly, eyes red and cheeks wet with tears. Makar was shaking uncontrollably, but he met Link’s eyes and muttered, “L-Link, we… Tatl was… She was… We have to…”

Something seemed to snap inside of Link. A strange feeling, of black hatred filled with duty and tinged with fear, and it stole over his heart. He knew this feeling; he’d felt it once before, one year ago, when he’d seen his little sister Aryll held captive by Ganondorf’s shooters during the Ordon High Massacre. Tatl may not be his little sister, but the fraternal instinct was the same. This dark doppelganger, this evil version of him, the one who had framed him, had him imprisoned, kidnapped his friends and broken his ribs, now held Tatl hostage. Her life was in his hands. He needed to act. He needed to be human, _now._

Limping towards the two shell-shocked teens, Link nosed the burlap sack dangling lifelessly from Makar’s hand until he got his attention.

“What? Oh, the song… Right. Medli, c’mon. We need to play the song, fast.”

“Ok… OK, I… I’m coming…” She whispered tremulously, struggling to her feet and stumbling towards Makar.

Link limped towards the sword, preparing himself. His chest burned, but he didn’t care. He could still hear Tatl screaming in his head. She’d begged him, pleaded for him to help, to save her, and he’d been able to do little more than whimper pathetically on the floor… He’d let her down. He’d failed.

“What… Do you know what song we’re supposed to play?” Makar asked after a few seconds of fiddling with the violin.

For a moment, panic stole over Link’s heart.

"Don't be stupid," Medli answered, voice still thick with tears. "It's the Earth God’s Lyric and the Wind God’s Aria. The violin and harp solo pieces from the Waker Island’s piece we were supposed to play tonight. Weren’t you paying attention when they told us about the songs we were playing?”

“Oh. Um, no, I guess not.”

"Well, you should open your ears every once in a while-"

Link snarled viciously, and the two shut up. They’d have time to silly bickering later.

“…OK, Link. We’re ready. Um, I’ll start.”

Link was hardly paying attention. His thoughts were entirely focused on the man who’d stolen Tatl, the man he had to stop.

His thoughts were broken by a handful of plucked notes that echoed softly through the clearing. The tune Medli played was gentle, almost like a lullaby, and was unexpectedly comforting. As she played, the trees in the clearing seemed to flourish, leaves stretching outward, flower petals opening, and their colors shone with enhanced vibrancy. This must be the Earth God’s Lyric… Who was this Earth God? What connection did he have to the Master Sword?

Then Makar joined in. His tune was quick and jaunty, like a melody meant for a carefree jig. It was surprisingly chipper and light, not the sort of thing he’d expected for a sacred ceremony, but even as he played his notes blended in with Medli’s, and as he played the wind picked up, jostling the branches, making the leaves and petals dance.

Something in the song... resonated within Link’s heart. It was familiar; a call to freedom and life. He’d heard this song before.

All at once, a beautiful light engulfed the sword, shining as though from within. As the music grew, the light grew with it, and oddly enough it stung. Link’s flesh prickled, his eyes watered, his fur felt as though it were on fire, and as the light grew so bright that it seemed it must consume the world, Link peeled back his lips to show his teeth and let loose a fearsome snarl. If the light wanted to consume him, so be it… Anything to save Tatl…

Suddenly, the light was gone, and the music had stopped. Someone was gently brushing his shoulder, whispering his name, and Link groaned. Couldn’t they just let him sleep? Mumbling incoherently, he placed his palms against the moist ground below him and pushed himself upright.

The realization of what was happening washed over him. Hands. He had hands! He leaped to his feet, startling Makar who'd been crouched down beside him, and let out a whoop of laughter. He was human again! Human, with hairless skin! Human, with hands and toes and a nose that wasn’t wet! Human!

…Human with responsibilities. A human whose friends were in danger. A human with a destiny he needed to fulfill.

“Goddesses, it’s true…” Makar gasped softly from somewhere to Link’s left.

“Link… Link are you ok?” Medli asked, stepping closer. “Are you hurt? I know he hit you pretty bad…”

“No, I’m fine.” Link answered softly, his eyes locked onto the Master Sword, the reason behind his coming here. “Somehow I think the injury disappeared when I returned to normal…”

Medli followed his gaze to the sword.

“…It’s waiting for you.” She whispered.

Link didn’t respond. Instead, he stepped forward, placed both hands gently on the midnight blue pommel. The broken handcuff was still on his wrist. Ignoring it, he gave his friends a quick, reassuring look, and pulled.

The blade slid free with a rasp of blade on stone, and with a sudden surge of familiarity and empowering strength, he held the blade aloft, the tip pointing skyward. The power had been restored. The two halves had been reunited. The Hero had finally come home.

A sudden light exploded from the crystal on the sword’s hilt, coalescing into a figure of a person, and Link stumbled backward, weapon held aloft, not about to be caught off-guard again. 

Rather than an enemy, however, he found himself facing what looked to be the spirit of a young woman whose face was carved from a gemstone. She had lips, eyes, and a nose, but no irises or pupils or any other defining facial feature. Her legs were encased in odd blue boots, and she wore a cape cinched on her breast by a blue diamond, though it appeared she had no arms beneath the cape’s folds. Whatever she was, spirit or fairy or demon, he’d never seen the like before.

“Greetings, Master. How is it that I’ve been awakened?”

Link gaped, all thoughts of Tatl and vengeance washed from his mind.

“Did you… just call me master?”

“Yes, Master. Though millennia have passed during my slumber, I have never forgotten you. Your face may be different, but your soul is the same. You are Link, the Goddess’s Chosen, am I correct?”

Link nodded, dumbfounded, but said nothing.

“Then you are indeed my master. I am Fi, the spirit of the Master Sword. I am confused, Master. With my purpose fulfilled, I intended to sleep for eternity. Why then have I been awakened?”

“You…” Link rasped, throat feeling unexpectedly dry. “The Master Sword has a spirit? Why…? I don’t remember…”

She appeared to be ignoring him. “I am sensing an object of intense magical power in the vicinity. They indicate this object to be the reasoning behind my being awakened after so long. The harp the girl bears; the stone on top appears to be a timeshift stone. If this instrument was used in the ceremony meant to restore power to the Master Sword, it could be responsible for my awakening.”

“A timeshift stone?” Medli asked, sounding lost. “On the Harp of Ages?”

"I am detecting a sixty-eight percent probability that I am correct," Fi answered, monotonously. Her voice was distinctly feminine, yet devoid of any emotion or inflection. She stated everything with emphatic purpose. Something about her reminded Link of a rather snooty secretary.

“These children are the Sages? I am detecting hereditary markers in the genetic structure of the female indicating she descends from the Zora and Rito lines. I can deduce that she is the Sage of Earth, descendant of Laruto.”

“Do what now?”

“The male possesses genetic code leading back to the Kokiri, suggesting that he is descended from Fado, the Sage of Wind.”

“Huh?”

“But I am confused, Master.” Fi continued, ignoring the baffled looks on his friend’s faces. “These Sages posses genetic markers from various races, yet they are humans. How is this possible?”

Link stared at her, this spiritual manifestation of his sacred blade, and felt at a loss. If she was right, and she was supposed to be lying dormant within his sword for eternity, then did accidentally waking her with the Harp of Ages have any negative effects on him using the blade?

And who exactly was Fi? What was her purpose? Why did a sword need a sleeping spirit inside of it? In all of his past lives, what few, scattered memories he possessed, not a one of them remembered his sword having a consciousness. It was always just a sword.

Then again, maybe this wasn’t a bad thing. Maybe he could use this. Fi clearly didn’t know what was going on, but she did seem to possess a few abilities; she read Medli and Makar fairly quickly and deduced their importance. Maybe she could do other things too. Maybe she could help him track down this Dark imposter and save Tatl.

“Fi, listen to me.” Link said, stepping closer and feeling suddenly desperate. “I didn’t mean to wake you up, and I don’t know why the world has changed so much. But I am still the Hero of Time, and you are still the spirit of the Master Sword. The world is in danger, and my friends need me. Will you help me?”

He expected questions or an argument; instead, her answer was swift and perfunctory.

“Of course, Master. It is my duty to assist you in any task. What is it you wish of me?”

Link grinned, suddenly feeling hopeful. “Some person who looks just like me is running around causing trouble. He’s kidnapped a little girl and is holding her hostage. He told me I had to meet him at the Museum of National History if I wanted to save her, but he’s very strong. He calls himself ‘the Dark me’. Now, I don’t know a whole lot about my past lives, but… do you know who he is?”

“No, Master.”

Link cursed, kicking a stray branch and yanking on his hair. She couldn’t help him after all…

“Master, I am sensing energy sources in nearly every direction. Sensors indicate that we are in the middle of a large, technologically advanced city. Am I correct in assuming we are far into the future?”

“Yeah, it’s been a long time since Hyrule’s needed a Hero…” Link muttered, not really paying attention.

“You also mentioned a museum; Master, could you not simply ask someone with knowledge of the past if they know who he is?”

Link stopped his pacing, stunned. Ask a person with knowledge of the past… Someone who studied ancient history, someone with a passion for the legends…

“Well, we can’t exactly waltz into the museum and take a history course.” Makar butted in, sounding irritated. “That’s exactly where the guy who took Tatl is waiting. Plus, Link is wanted. Nobody is going to want to talk to us. ”

“We could always check on the internet.” Medli offered, trying to sound helpful.

“No…” Link mumbled, feeling a smile grow on his weary face. “No, I know just who to ask… But I’m going to need one of your cell phones.”

“Who you gonna call?” Makar asked, sounding confused.

“The only man who loves history more than I do. A man we can trust. Mr. Auru.”


	16. A Light in the Darkness

The fire crackled merrily, casting dancing shadows about the silent ruins as the water-logged ex-janitor of Ordon High began drying out beside it.

At his side sat Colin, Ralph and Aryll’s would-be savior, looking pained and distraught as always, the right sleeve of his shirt torn off and bundled up in a bloody mass against the back of his skull. Both Colin and Linebeck seemed to be in not so cheery spirits, but for Ralph, the morning couldn’t be getting much better. After all, he was in the company of a beautiful woman and ripe with opportunities to show off his abundant masculinity and copious charismatic attributes, thus finally winning her favor…

That she had insisted on showing him up at every available opportunity that evening he chose to ignore.

The four weary wanderers sat in a huddle around the remains of the fire caused by the breaking of Ralph’s lantern; they’d kept the flames alive by feeding it sticks and gobs of spider web and were taking a moment to rest and discuss what was going on and how they were going to get out of it.

The discussion wasn’t going well.

“That doesn’t make any sense! How could you have been on a pirate ship in the middle of the ocean one moment and then come crashing through the wall here in the middle of the forest the next?!” Aryll shouted loudly, stamping the butt of her terrifying hammer on the ground for emphasis.

“Listen, Pigtails,” the janitor retorted, looking cross, “I already told you, I don’t know how to explain it! One minute, I’m sailing a boat with Red, and the next some giant bird plucks her off the bird’s nest and I’m flung into the ocean!”

“Who is this ‘Red’ person of which he speaks?” Ralph whispered to Colin softly, not wanting to interrupt and garner Aryll’s wrath. She could be a handful at times.

“Dunno,” Colin replied, voice dull and emotionless

"Her name's Marin," Linebeck answered gruffly, glancing over at the two boys, looking a little relieved to have a respite from Aryll's questions. "She's one of your classmates."

“Ah…” Ralph replied, nodding sagely as he removed his jacket, reveling in the feeling of the cool morning air on his sweaty skin. Still, he felt odd without his jacket on. It was his most trusted vestment and had seen him through many a crisis, and he was loath to lose it… Shrugging, he draped it about his shoulders once more and fastened the button around his collar so that the jacket hung off him like a cape. Much better.

“Marin?” Colin asked, perplexed, finally showing some emotion. “That girl Midna says is trying to steal Link from Zelda? Why is she here?”

“Why are any of us here?” Aryll replied irritably, “Because we were trying to figure out what’s going on with Link. One minute we find some creepy dudes in the atrium, and the next…”

"Boat," Linebeck muttered morosely.

"Forest," Ralph chimed in with a thoughtful nod.

“…I didn’t come here with you guys.” Colin said sheepishly, removing the soiled cloth from the back of his head and chucking it into the fire. “Me, Zelda, and the fox-mask boy got separated in the stock room, and I got sent to a temple.”

“What I want to know is,” Aryll continued, ignoring Colin and staring into the fire, “why is any of this happening? And how? What on earth is happening to us?!”

Linebeck shuffled uncomfortably, undoing the wet, white button-up he'd been wearing and tossing it to the side, leaving him clad in his black security trousers and a white wife-beater that showed off his beer gut and his hairy chest. Aryll looked disgusted. 

“Well, I can’t say that I can answer the first question, but I think I can answer the second.”

“What?” Colin asked, confused.

“Magic.”

There was a pause in which Colin sighed and looked down and Aryll bit her lip nervously.

“…Magic? But Linebeck, that’s not-“

“Real?” He supplied, leaning on his forearms and staring at her intensely. “From what I understand, you kids just fought off a giant spider in the ruins of an ancient temple. Blondie over here somehow teleported from a pristine temple into this light forsaken forest. And me…” he dug around in his pocket, pulling out an old hourglass, “I used this baby to freeze time, Red had a stick that could control the wind, and I watched a giant blue bear fly outta the sky and tackle a robot pirate zombie off of the prow of a ship and save my life.”

“Goddesses above!” Ralph roared emphatically, slapping his knee with passion, making Colin jump. “By what forsaken twist of fate was I not chosen to accompany you?! What adventure you’ve had! Some men get all the luck! All we saw were a couple skeletons!”

“See, there ya go!” Linebeck replied, gesturing at Ralph yet still focusing on Aryll. “The walking dead? What other explanation is there?”

“But… magic…” Aryll replied hesitantly, looking distressed.

“Listen, see this hourglass? It’s the Phantom Hourglass, from an old legend of the Phantom Isles. It’s said that the Hero himself used this on one of his quests. The magic stick that Marin had? The Wind Waker, from the Waker Isles, the very same one the Hero of Winds used in that legend. Everything we’ve found so far was an item on display in the museum. I’d know, I work there. That hammer you’re cradling? It was on display in the room about the Kokiri Forest, wasn’t it?”

“I… Yeah, I saw it this morning… But if it was in the museum, how’d it wind up here in the forest?” Aryll asked, perplexed.

“Well, as to that… I think I discovered something back on the pirate ship…. Something that might explain how we got here, and how my boat came crashing through your wall.”

“…What?”

“Well…” He grunted absently as he repositioned himself more comfortably and leaned closer to the fire. “I saw a janitor’s closet.”

“Come again?” Ralph asked, perplexed.

“A janitor’s closet. Now I know that sounds weird, but think about it. I was on a boat. Why on the Goddesses’ green earth would there be a janitor’s closet on a wooden sailing ship? On the deck, no less.”

“Because someone needs to clean up the messes?” Colin offered blandly.

Linebeck snorted. “You don’t have janitors on boats, kid. Not boats that small, at least. This was an old-fashioned sailing ship, like back in the days of pirates and castles and whatnot, before steamboats were invented. But that closet… I recognized the plaque and the chemicals that were inside. It’s the same closet from the Waker Islands exhibit on the second floor of the Museum of National History.”

Silence followed his pronouncement, and Ralph was momentarily grateful to see that he wasn’t the only one sporting a look of confusion.

“So… what are you saying?” Aryll finally asked, breaking the momentary quiet.

“What I’m saying, Pigtails, is that I don’t think we were ever on a boat, or in a temple, or in the middle of the forest… I think we’re still in the museum.”

A cackle of familiar laughter suddenly echoed throughout the clearing.

“Hee! So you finally figured it out, old man? Took you guys long enough; the Princess realized it almost instantly.”

“You!” Ralph roared, leaping to his feet and brandishing his rusted sword, stabbing it wildly into the air. “Reveal yourself, foul creature of the darkness, and I shall bestow upon you the justice you so greatly deserve!”

“Ralph!” Aryll cried as she and Colin hastily dove away from him, heads bowed low to avoid the erratic swinging of his sword. “Watch it!”

“Sit down, you pompous idiot, before you take someone’s head off!” Linebeck squawked indignantly from where he’d fallen backward off the stump he was sitting on, arms quaking over his head in fear.

The sound of the masked boy’s snickering could be heard echoing off the walls of the ruined temple.

“Oh, please. You’re going to do me in? With that thing? That sorry excuse for a sword?”

“It’s sword enough to slay you, cretin!”

“Well, it’s better than Blondie’s sword, I’ll give you that.” The masked boy continued tauntingly. “At least yours didn’t snap in half when it mattered most.”

Colin didn’t react to the jab. He remained where he was crouching, shoulders tense, as though waiting for the sky to fall or the world to catch fire or some other disaster to befall them once more.

“What do you want with us?” Aryll asked loudly, her hands tightening on the haft of her massive war hammer, looking simultaneously determined and afraid. “We played your stupid game and passed your test. When are you going to let us go?”

“Passed my test?” The voice parroted back. “Ha! Don’t make me laugh. Some of you didn’t do so well. I mean you did ok, girlie, and I guess the old guy passed his too, barely… But the two idiots with the swords? Not so much.”

“Hey!” Ralph hollered, enraged at being insulted by a child. “Who are you calling an idiot, you adolescent circus freak?!”

“Ralph, shut up!” Aryll hissed vehemently, but Ralph ignored her.

“In what manner did I fail your test?! I survived the night in the forest, did I not?!”

“Well yeah, but you had to be rescued by a girl!” The boy exclaimed, once again erupting into fits of giggles.

Hot shame dripped down Ralph’s back as he gawked in soundless horror. His foe was correct… He had been saved by the very damsel he’d sworn to protect… There was no honor in Ralph’s victory.

“And you!” The voice cried, presumably addressing Colin. “You make your way all the way to the end and fail at the last second?! You’re pathetic!”

Colin didn’t answer, but he kept his gaze riveted to the ground.

“Honestly! And to think I thought one of you might be the Hero…”

“Hey now!” Ralph cried, once again fired up. “I may not have put on a very good show back there, but I am most certainly a hero!”

“Not a hero. _The_ Hero. As in, the Hero of Time.”

Ralph’s breath caught in his throat.

After a moment of silence, Aryll spoke up once again.

“What do you mean, the Hero of Time? That isn’t… He’s not…”

She trailed off, looking doubtful, and Ralph could practically read her thoughts; if magic was real, then the legends of old…?

“Look,” the masked kid continued, “I was told the Hero of Time was going to show up here at some point, and I was thinking… I dunno, maybe one of you two might be him. But after that poor showing you put on…”

Something seemed to come alive inside of Ralph. The Hero of Time… was going to be there? Today? And it might turn out to be Ralph…? Any other day he’d laugh the thought off, but now, knowing that magic was real, being trapped in this museum, it seemed suddenly possible… No, more than possible, plausible! Could it be that his innate sense of justice and altruism actually stemmed from a divine calling?!

“Is that why you’ve been putting us through these tests?” Linebeck suddenly asked. “Because you’re looking for which one of us is the Hero of Time?”

“Hmm… Could be, grandpa. But I know it’s not you; you’re too old and you cry too much. And it’s not the girl. And if it’s not you, then it’s gotta be one of the guys.”

“It’s me!” Ralph blurted out, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet with anticipation. “I know it for sure, I can feel it in my bones! I am the Hero of Time!”

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Linebeck shooting him a dubious look and Aryll shaking her head in mortification. Colin remained silent where he crouched on the floor.

“Puh-lease, the Hero of Time wouldn’t have failed his test.” The masked boy taunted.

“What?! But… But…” Ralph spluttered, scrambling for an answer. “I didn’t have a proper weapon! All I have is this rusted excuse for a sword! Test me again and give me a proper blade, one worthy of the Hero of Time, and I shall prove to you all who I truly am!”

“Ralph!” Aryll exclaimed, horrified. “What are you saying?!”

“Kid, listen to Pigtails- shut up.” Linebeck hissed.

“No! I am the Hero, test me and find out! Do it right now!”

“Well, I do like the idea…” The masked boy mused from overhead. “One more test for the losers who failed… a test with a real weapon, one worthy of the Hero of Time… A test that only a true Hero could complete…”

“Ralph, stop!” Aryll demanded, sounding absolutely livid. “Think about what you’re saying! You could be killed! You’re throwing yourself into danger for nothing! Why are you listening to the psycho who did this to us in the first place?!”

Ralph turned on Aryll, eyes ablaze with the power of his own conviction, a triumphant grin gracing his lips. “Aryll, my sweet, fear not for my wellbeing! I promise I shall return to you reborn as a man worthy of your hand!”

“Oh Goddesses, why…?” she groaned, pulling at her pigtails in frustration. “Fine, forget about me! Forget about yourself- think about Colin! You’re lumping him into this too, and that’s messed up! You don’t have the right to make this decision for him!”

“Neither do you!” Ralph shot back, and to his great surprise, she closed her mouth with a snap. “Colin is no longer yours to command! I know Colin, I know the man inside the boy, the one who hides behind that cloak of shame and guilt- I know the true Colin! And I know that the real Colin would never hesitate to take this chance to prove himself a Hero, to prove to the world who he really is! Isn’t that right, Colin? The Hero of Time… The Legend himself may yet be sleeping dormant inside you! Will you cower upon the floor, or will you rise to meet your destiny?!”

All eyes were on Colin now. He stared at Ralph, gaze empty, mouth agape, but said nothing.

“Colin…” Aryll growled, sounding infuriated, but she said nothing more. Apparently, the shock of Ralph throwing their breakup back in her face had robbed her of her words.  To tell Colin what to do would be to admit that she still felt like she had pull over his actions, which would imply that he still meant something to her, and she would never allow that. To show such weakness in front of him would be to undermine all that she’d worked for the past year. Ralph had backed her into a corner. Now to see what Colin would do…

Colin turned to face her. Slowly, he closed his mouth and settled his face into something that looked more calm and controlled. He didn’t accept Ralph’s proposition, at least not verbally… but he didn’t reject it either. Aryll’s mouth contorted into a sickening grimace.

“Well alright then!” the masked boy shouted gleefully from up above. “Let’s get these tests started! We’ll make ‘em simple- a weapon will be provided for each of you, one that was once wielded by the Hero himself. Your test- you each have a person you must find and save. They are in grave danger. If you fail to save them, then they die, and you’re not the Hero. However, if you succeed…”

Ralph turned back and shot Colin an excited look; Colin, however, suddenly looked stricken.

“I cannot believe you…” Aryll seethed, folding her arms and looking bitter. Presumably, she was directing this at the both of them, but it wasn’t Ralph she was glaring at.

“Wait,” Linebeck chimed in, looking pensive, “doesn’t that mean that no matter what, someone’s going to die? They can’t both be the Hero.”

“And, as an added bonus,” the masked boy continued, ignoring Linebeck entirely, “let’s switch the teams up and send the others in to help you out. Y’know, because the girl here seems so worried about you two, and you could use some adult supervision.”

“What?!”

“Hey! No, you can’t-!”

“Good luck!”

A wave of cold and darkness once again stole over them, and the last thing Ralph saw before the clearing went black was the murderous glares of Aryll and Linebeck.

* * *

“For the love of Farore!” Sheik exploded, stopping in place and throwing his hands into the air in frustration, “Where are we?!”

Deciding that now was as good a time as ever to take a break, Zelda let out a weary groan and sat down against a rock wall, giving her aching feet some much-needed rest. With a languid sigh, Navi plopped down beside her and immediately began resting her head against Zelda’s arm. A small spurt of compassion surged through her at the sight of how tired the poor girl was, but she didn’t have time to waste on babying her. They needed to move quickly.

To be perfectly frank, the trio was lost. She’d be more embarrassed about it perhaps if circumstances weren’t what they were, but she challenged anybody to find their way through a museum currently under the rule of a psychotic caped man and his magical masked sidekick who for whatever reason felt the need to populate the building with multitudinous artificial realities that seamlessly merged with one another at random intervals without rhyme or reason. It was enough to drive anybody insane.

That had been Zelda’s day since Sheik’s timely arrival and the rescue of Navi. An hour of solid walking, traversing random terrain in all types of bizarre climates, unable to discern in which direction they were heading or even where they were supposed to go. Presently, they were on what appeared to be the slope of a massive volcano, and part of her just knew that at any moment now it was going to erupt and once again they’d be forced to flee into the unknown.

It was at moments like these that Zelda found herself loathing her connection to the Goddesses. It always worked out in the end, but it was the ‘working out’ part that drove her crazy because she never knew what it was she was supposed to do, and the not knowing made her feel like any wrong move could send the world spinning toward its destruction.

A crunch at her side told her that Sheik had finally given up on pulling the hair out of his head and had collapsed on the ground beside her.

“Well… What’s the plan, Princess?” he asked, morose, sounding completely exhausted.

Zelda shrugged in apathy, arms curled listlessly around the golden harp in her arms. What was the plan? Was there ever a plan? Sometimes she felt like there was nobody watching over them and there really was no such thing as destiny, and the entirety of history was made up of random gut decisions made by a bunch of poor, lost, tired little people.

With a groan, Navi collapsed onto Zelda’s lap, shifting around until she was comfortable, her short periwinkle hair splayed over Zelda’s leg.

“I’m tired…” She moaned.

"I know, me too," Zelda replied, idly playing with her hair.

“We’re all tired, kid.” Sheik grumped on Zelda’s other side, and she had to force herself not to smile. Sheikah bodyguard or no, Zelda still felt like she was escorting two children. Only Navi was better behaved.

“How much farther till we get there?” The little girl whined pathetically against Zelda’s thigh.

Zelda sighed. “We… Don’t know, Navi. I think we may be a little lost.”

She was hesitant to admit that much, not wanting to dishearten the already fragile young girl. Upon hearing Zelda’s confession, Navi turned slowly and shot Zelda a quizzical look. She had to stop herself from sighing from relief; she half expected her to cry out or accuse Zelda of poor leadership. Instead, she frowned slightly and asked, “…Where are we going?”

"To Narnia," Sheik said sarcastically.

Zelda punched him in the leg.

“We’re trying to find the altars so I can pray to the Goddesses and find out how to save our friends. Nayru told me they were dedicated to the Golden Trio, but I don’t think I have to visit them in any particular order… I just need to find one, and maybe I can figure out from there where to go next.”

Navi tilted her head, brows furrowed and eyes squinting as though trying to solve a difficult puzzle. She even had her lips scrunched up in a cute little pout. As Zelda watched, she slowly turned her head and faced out down the mountainside.

“Don’t worry about it, sweetie.” Zelda sighed, going back to stroking the girls light blue tresses. “I’ll get us out of here soon, I just need to think a little.”

“I think we should go that way,” Navi said, pointing down towards a small stand of trees.

Zelda frowned.

“Why?”

Navi shrugged. “I dunno, I just think we should. I think that to get to the altar, we need to go that way.”

Sheik snorted. “Well what do you know, Navi’s actually a GPS.”

She scowled at Sheik, offended. “I’m being serious! I really think we need to go that way!”

Zelda turned to Sheik and raised an eyebrow.

He let out a groan, hiding his face under his arm. “Please tell me you’re not thinking of listening to her.”

“Well, why not? We haven’t got anything better to do.”

“Why not? I’ll tell you why not- because if we go randomly walking in that direction we could end up under the ocean or on the moon or someplace equally insane. There’s no rhyme or reason to where we are! We need to try and figure out where we’re going before we start letting some five-year-old play navigator and lead us right off a cliff!”

“Hey! I’m not five, I’m eight!” Navi shouted indignantly from Zelda’s other side. “And I’m not leading you blindly- I know that’s where we’re supposed to go! I can… I can feel it in here!”

She jabbed her thumb pointedly at her chest.

A curious look stole over Zelda’s face.

“You… feel like that’s the right place to go?”

Navi nodded in earnest, her eyes wide and pleading.

Zelda turned back to Sheik, chewing nervously on her lip.

“Please don’t,” Sheik grumbled, rubbing at his eyes with his bandaged hands.

“Look, what other choice do we have?” Zelda hissed, trying to lower her voice so that Navi, who was sitting right beside her, couldn’t hear. “We’re lost, we don’t know where to go, and we’ll be in danger no matter where we are. Maybe she’s just trying to be helpful, or maybe she really does feel something pulling her in that direction- we don’t know. But I think we should listen to her.”

“Why?” Sheik shot back, not bothering to lower his voice in the slightest.

“Because whenever the Goddesses send me on some ludicrous task, they always provide a way for me to accomplish it. Maybe this is their way.”

“Seems like a stretch to me.”

“And also…”

“Also?”

She shifted uncomfortably.

“Never mind. But sitting around isn’t getting us any closer to getting out of here. If you haven’t got any bright ideas about where to go, then let’s give Navi’s intuitions a chance, ok?”

Sheik blinked several times, then shook his head and pushed himself to his feet.

“Fine, fine… Let’s go then. Off into the great unknown.”

Navi cheered, launching herself from Zelda’s side and practically sprinting down the hillside.

“Yeah! Come on, Zelda, this way!”

“Slow down!” Zelda called after her, frazzled. “Don’t get too far ahead, we need to stick together!”

Sheik was at her side, shooting her an expectant look.

“…What?” she asked, following after the exuberant girl at a brisk pace.

Sheik matched her stride. “You gonna tell me what you were too afraid to say in front of her?”

“Sheik…”

“Nuh-uh. Come on, Zel, don’t leave me in the dark. We’re partners now. Why’d you suddenly decide to let her lead the way?”

“It’s just…” She sighed, tugging on a lock of her hair absentmindedly. “…Don’t you feel like something’s… off… about her?”

She felt her cheeks pink slightly at the admission, feeling a little foolish for mentioning it. Sheik blinked, then lowered his brow.

“Off?”

“Yeah, like… There’s something abnormal about her?”

“You mean her hair?”

“No, not that… I’m talking, like, on the inside. I don’t mean psychologically, I mean like… spiritually. Look, just… try to probe her with your magic. But be gentle; don’t let her know you’re doing it.”

Sheik sent her a flat look, but then closed his eyes, focusing. To the naked eye, nothing happened, but Zelda could feel the swirling purple energy that was Sheik’s mind shifting through the air like a shadow, reaching towards the girl.

His eyes suddenly shot open.

“She… Her heart, it’s…”

“I know.” Zelda breathed, feeling suddenly relieved that Sheik saw it too and it wasn’t just her. “It’s weird, isn’t it? It’s so bright and cheerful, it’s almost unsettling. I can’t really say why it’s putting me off, but…”

“She’s pure.” Sheik interrupted, a wondrous gleam in his eye, and Zelda looked at him askance.

“Pure?”

“There’s no darkness in her heart. None at all. But how is that possible…?”

“I don’t understand.”

"There's darkness in everyone's heart, Zelda," Sheik explained softly. He shot her a wry look, "Trust me, I'm an expert on internal darkness. Everyone feels negativity, doubt, sorrow, pain… Everyone has darkness, even you, Princess. Its part of who we are, good and evil, light and dark, they're born within us, and our actions define how they grow which in turn defines our personalities. Shadow magic uses the darkness and light in one's heart in equal measure. It shouldn't be possible for a mortal to exist who lacks darkness in her heart… it's like having a coin that only has one side, it's illogical, practically a paradox. But you can feel it; the pure, unadulterated radiance that shines inside of her…”

The awe and wonder was starting to fade from his eyes, and he adopted a discomfited expression.

“What is it?” Zelda asked softly. Sheik’s entire monologue had been enlightening; Princess of Destiny and bearer of the Triforce of Wisdom with countless past-lives to call upon though she may be, she still didn’t know everything about everything, and Shadow magic, though something she’d trained in in past lives, wasn’t something that was easily called to memory. Everything he’d just told her had been fascinating, but why did he now look so concerned?

Navi had slowed her run to a sprightly canter and was playfully hopping off rocks and kicking pebbles a few yards ahead of them, occasionally turning back to make sure they were following, an eager smile on her face.

“She makes me uneasy,” he admitted softly.

Zelda tensed. “What do you mean?”

“Nothing malevolent,” he assured her quickly. “If she was some sort of evil monster in disguise as a girl, I’d be able to sense the dark intentions. It’s just… She’s almost like an aberration. She shouldn’t exist, the Goddesses shouldn’t allow it, so then… why does she?”

“Do you think her pureness is because she’s a child?” Zelda asked thoughtfully, shoes crunching on the dusty gravel beneath them.

Sheik shrugged. “I mean, maybe? I don’t know exactly how this works, so maybe children don’t have a developed enough sense of right and wrong to have any darkness in their hearts, but if she’s an orphan, you’d think there’d be at least a little selfishness and resentment beginning inside of her. It’s not like it would just magically pop into existence one day; the light and dark should develop over time. I really don’t know what to say, but… She makes me uneasy. I’m the Sage of Shadow, my job is to regulate this stuff, and mortals of pure-light shouldn’t exist.”

“Hurry up!” Navi shouted from up ahead, “It’s this way, behind this boulder!”

“We’ll figure it out soon enough,” Zelda soothed, patting her friend on the shoulder. “Whatever she is, why she was sent here, we’ll figure it out. But we need to focus on the mission the Goddesses gave me first. Everything else takes a back seat.”

Sheik nodded tersely, and Zelda turned her attention back to Navi who had just vanished behind a large rock formation.

“Navi,” Zelda called out loudly, picking up her pace so as to not get separated; who knew when they’d stumble across the boundary of another pocket dimension? “You need to slow down! We need to stick together, there could be dang-!”

As Zelda rounded the corner, the scenery changed.

They were still on a mountain, but it looked to be a different one than the volcano they’d just come from, and they were at the base rather than on the slope. Olive trees flourished in the compact soil, casting shade down upon the rocks and plants that sprang up along the path they found themselves on.

Overhead, the sky was a bright, clear blue, the morning sun already heating the ground and air around them, but that wasn’t the thing that caught Zelda’s eye. What she focused on instead was the large, stone altar directly before them.

It looked like a big stone box, to be honest; situated on a raised dais set into the mountainside, the altar was made of roughly hewn white stone and sat approximately four feet wide by two feet tall. All in all, it looked a little plain; the stone was white and rough, but there were no decorations, no adornments, just a white raised circular dais with an altar stuck into a mountainside, without any indication that the location was of special religious significance. In fact, the only thing that Zelda could see that stood out was a single symbol carved into the altar; that of what appeared to be a gust of wind.

Zelda didn’t need the memories of her past lives to tell her what that meant. It was the symbol of Din, one of the three Goddesses of creation. She had found the first altar.

Overwhelmed by sheer excitement, she took three steps then froze, confusion crowding in. She’d found the altar? But… how? They’d been walking aimlessly, absolutely devoid of direction, and then…

Navi.

A dark feeling stole over Zelda’s heart and she turned her head slowly to glance at Sheik, whose gaze was riveted on the altar, eyes wide with disbelief, before continuing on to Navi.

For her part, the little girl was staring up at Zelda with wide sapphire eyes, completely unaware that anything out of the ordinary had just transpired. Cocking her head to the side and smiling bashfully when Zelda met her gaze, she scuffed her toe in the dirt and said, shyly, “I told you I could find it.”

Zelda shook her head, momentarily lost for words. Yes, she’d told them she could find it, and sure, Zelda had elected to let her lead the way, truly believing that the Goddesses would provide her with the means to fulfill her quest… But after Sheik going on about how unnatural she felt, the realization that there was something special about Navi only served to further her doubt about the small little girl.

…Then again, why was she feeling so nervous? She trusted the Goddesses to provide her with a way to accomplish their task, and they did just that. Navi had been nothing but helpful since the moment they’d found her; granted, she’d bickered a little with Sheik, but who didn’t? Was a lack of evil in her heart really something to get worked up over? And maybe it was just that that allowed her to navigate the maze-like museum when Sheik and Zelda could not; Majora’s Mask was an object of incredibly powerful dark magic, so perhaps not having darkness in her heart prevented the masked boy from confusing her. At the end of the day, Zelda would simply have to choose whether to trust Navi or treat her as an enemy. If Link were here, he’d treat her as a friend and a person who needed protecting- and since Link wasn’t here, Zelda would do it for him.

Shaking off Sheik’s imploring gaze, Zelda hefted the golden harp in her arms and said, briskly, “Way to go, Navi, you did it! Now I can get started on saving our friends.”

At Zelda’s acknowledgment of her success, Navi flushed prettily and looked down at her shoes.

“Ok,” Zelda said after a quick, steadying breath, “Here we go.”

Swallowing back any butterflies, Zelda walked forward down a gentle slope and then up again, shoes crunching on the hard soil, and stepped onto the dais, approaching the altar with the same sort of attitude that she’d use when approaching a bomb.

Din wasn’t her patron Goddess; the Triforce of Wisdom was ascribed to Nayru, and it was with Nayru who had Zelda usually spoke. She hoped the Goddess wouldn’t take affront to Zelda praying at her altar… but then, it was her sister who told Zelda to do this in the first place. Besides, being the Goddess assigned to the Triforce of Power, the part usually held by her mortal foe, didn’t mean that Din was a bad person… right?

Kneeling down carefully before the altar, Zelda took a nervous breath and hoisted the harp up before her. A sudden thought came to mind; she didn’t know how to play the harp. What exactly was she supposed to do?

Glancing around nervously and feeling a little foolish, Zelda performed a mental shrug, threw caution to the wind, and gave the harp a quick, gentle strum.

A brilliant red light exploded out from beneath the dais, engulfing Zelda in its fiery glow. She heard Sheik and Navi shouting from somewhere behind her, but in a moment she was lost in a world of dense, white fog.

She recognized the place instantly; she’d seen the same thing multiple times the previous year during the Ordon High Massacre, when the Goddesses would send her visions of the immediate future as a warning. A thrill of terror and excitement shot through her like an electric charge, and she waited with bated breath for the fog to coalesce into the scenes and images that she was certain were going to give her some insight into what was going on and help her figure out how she was supposed to put an end to this madness.

Instead, something altogether unexpected happened.

Rather than seeing an image form before her, she heard the sound of soft, muffled footsteps echoing out from somewhere in the fog, steadily growing closer. A small spark of fear laced its way through her heart, but suspended as she was in the mist she couldn’t flee or fight, merely wait for the footsteps to stop.

All at once, a silhouette appeared in the mist and steadily drew nearer until, like a picture coming into focus on a camera, the image became clear and she could see the person with total clarity.

It was a girl. Slightly taller than Zelda, perhaps a few years older, with a stern, no-nonsense expression that might have been cast from marble, she gave off the impression that she was not somebody to trifle with. Her face may have been hard, but it was undeniably beautiful, wreathed by a head of long, straight, dirty-blonde hair, streaked with gold and held in place by an ornate golden tiara. Her eyes, cold and unfeeling as the winter frost, were a pale, shimmering blue.

The tiara ought to have been what tipped Zelda off, but strangely enough, it was her dress. The other princesses before had been decked out in such odd, poufy accoutrements, so seeing one now who was dressed more modernly was a little strange. The bodice was light lavender, cut low enough to show her collarbones and sternum but high enough to preserve her modesty. The skirt was a pale white and reached down to the floor, obscuring her feet, and was stylized with a small diamond-shaped cloth on the front, showing the Hyrulian Crest and decorated with what looked like vines. Perhaps the most interesting bit was her shoulders, encased in thick golden shoulder pads, the type a soldier might wear, which were connected across her breast by an ornate golden necklace that vaguely resembled a bird. The rest of her arms were covered in long, white, delicate gloves.

There could be no doubt. She was once again facing a previous Princess Zelda, one of her past lives. And from the look of things, this Zelda was just as tough as the Pirate she’d met in Mr. Happy’s mirror.

Unsure why the Goddesses would send her all the way here simply to speak to another past life, something Zelda had previously accomplished just from seeing her own reflection, she made the conscious decision not to appear as weak in front of this one as she had in front of the Pirate.

“You’re me,” she began simply, at once acknowledging the other woman’s presence as well as the fact that she knew more or less what was going on.

The marble princess nodded. “Indeed I am, Your Highness.”

When she didn’t continue, Zelda pressed on, feeling more than a little uncomfortable. “I… I was sent here by the Goddess Nayru. She said that you’re supposed to help me, or that you’d make the path forward clear, or something.”

There was silence, and the other princess quietly regarded her behind her cold, emotionless eyes.

Impatience and irritation starting to show through, Zelda tried again.

“Please… Give me wisdom… Help me know what I must do…”

“Is wisdom what you truly seek?” the princess spoke up, voice low and detached.

Zelda blinked. “What? Y-yes, of course it-“

“Are you sure it is not power? The strength to rend your foes and take back what is yours?”

“No, of course not-”

“And it is not courage? The will to push past your fears, your faults, to risk your life to right wrongs?”

Zelda felt frazzled. What was she talking about? Power? Courage? She was Zelda, bearer of the Triforce of Wisdom, and she'd come here seeking guidance, seeking wisdom, to help her to move forward. But instead, she was making it sound as though she were Ganondorf, craving power, or Link, seeking heroics. That isn’t what Zelda wanted….

Was it?

The crystal blue of her past life’s eyes seemed to bore into her soul.

She didn’t seek power… but she was looking for a way to defeat her enemies. Was that not the same thing?

She didn’t seek courage… but she was hoping to find a way to save her friends, to save Link. Was that not the same thing?

And was it wrong? Was there any reason why she couldn’t seek after power and courage? Was there some unwritten law stating that the Princess of Destiny was only allowed to be wise, but not powerful? Not courageous? Was she truly a one-dimensional figure, meant to fulfill a singular role and nothing more? Was she always to be the Princess in the Tower?

The masked boy’s voice sounded in her head

‘ _The Hero was alone… In every age and in every trial, the Hero fought and bled and suffered alone… Where were you, Princess?’_

Her fists clenched painfully as she stared down the impassive princess before her. She was a princess in a tower no more. She would find strength, she would find courage, and she would save her friends and her country. Nobody, not even her past self, would change that.

It seemed as though the other Zelda could read her mind because her façade moved for the first time since they'd met; a wry smirk worked its way across her marble face. 

“So… You do seek power and courage… You’re right, there’s nothing wrong with seeking to develop other virtues; it does not do to favor one over the other. But what is true power? What is true courage? And what do you gain if you lose sight of who you are?”

Zelda snarled. “I haven’t lost sight of anything. I know who I am.”

“Do you?” the other Zelda asked softly. “Do you really?”

Zelda remained silent. She wasn’t playing this woman’s game any longer. An irrational fury had blazed up inside of her, and she determinedly rejected her past self’s attempts at changing what she’d decided upon; she would save her friends, she would defeat the enemy. She would be the hero. Link would not need to suffer, not this time.

“Such stubbornness,” the other Zelda sighed, shaking her head ruefully. “Very well. You came to me for wisdom? Then you shall receive it. Listen well: In the past, an usurper led the armies of Twilight against my kingdom to wage war. He laid siege to my castle and slew my people, trapping them under a veil of darkness. When at last he cornered me, my soldiers hefted their spears, prepared to die at my side, and I, their ruler, chose instead to lower my weapon and surrender. Hear me now, Princess of Destiny… Sometimes, true victory can only be achieved through yielding.”

The fog suddenly thickened, obscuring the princess from view, and in another flash of red light, the fog was gone, and Zelda found herself once again kneeling upon the raised dais, harp in hand, facing the Altar of Din.

“Zelda!” Sheik shouted, running to her side and grasping her shoulder. “Zelda, are you ok?”

“Zelda!” Navi echoed, wide eyes flooded with tears, falling to her knees and wrapping the older girl in a tremulous hug.

“I’m fine…” She panted, feeling weak. Praying before the altar and speaking to her past life seemed to have drained a lot of her energy. They would need to rest there awhile before continuing on.

“Zelda… What did you see?” Sheik asked, brows furrowed in concern.

‘ _Sometimes… True victory can only be achieved through yielding.’_

Zelda scowled darkly. So, she would have her give up, would she? Test of the Goddesses or no, Zelda would not be swayed. Her path was clear- she needed to obtain the power and courage necessary to shape her own destiny. She would be the leader her people needed, the hero her friends awaited, and the pillar of strength upon which all could rely.

Patting Navi consolingly on the head, she turned to Sheik and said, in a brisk voice, “We’ll take a short break before continuing on. We need to hurry to the next altar. Go see if there’s a stream or anything nearby, and me and Navi will start picking some olives from these trees. Don’t worry,” she added as Sheik showed every sign of wanting to butt in and demand to know what had happened, “the way forward is clear. Everything is going to be fine.”

And it would be. She was there to make sure of that.

* * *

The endless column of shimmering light softly faded, and Midna found herself in the dark.

Dazed, blinking drunkenly, Midna swayed where she stood as she was suddenly enveloped in a howling, bitter wind. Where… Where was she? Where had the sun gone? The scorching desert heat? Why did the air feel humid and smell of ash, why did the wind chill her so, and what was this strange, sudden darkness?

Shapes were forming in the gloom before her eyes, muddled swirls of lavender and black, and something churned sluggishly in her mind. How had she gotten there? She had been… in the desert… there’d been a mirror, and…

The world slammed into place with jarring force and she stumbled to the side, punch-drunk.

The desert, the ruins, the mirror, the light…!

Groose! Where was Groose?!

Suddenly terrified, Midna lurched forward, eyes wide and fearful, and tried to take in her surroundings. She was on the roof of some sort of building. Whatever it was, it was large and old, made of truly massive yellowed blocks, crudely cut, cracked and scuffed and matted with filth. Overhead, the sky was a churning mass of purple storm clouds that frothed like the sea, occasionally flashing with streaks of lightning. In the distance, she could see the dark trees of a forest, stretches of barren, blasted wastelands, a muddled lake, and a massive, imposing mountain… What Goddess-forsaken world did she find herself in now?

Turning slowly to take in the depressing scenery, she noticed a slight glowing out of the corner of her eye. It was the mirror, standing on its plinth directly behind her; the same one she and Groose had found at the top of the ruins. But how had it come to be here with her?

A doleful light shimmered faintly from the glass, illuminating the runes etched onto its face. Why was it shining so weakly now? Where had that bright, all-consuming light that had swallowed her up gone? Could it be… that this mirror is what had brought her there? Were there a pair, or was it more like a portal? Could it lead her back to where Groose was? There was something warm and comforting about it, about the faint light that danced upon her face almost as though it were sunlight shimmering through from the bright desert world she’d been in before, calling her back...

There was no warning. With a tremendous crash, the mirror suddenly shattered into a thousand pieces, chunks of razor-sharp glass literally exploding outward, and Midna was forced to cover her eyes and jump backward with a startled cry.

When the tinkling had subsided, she carefully lowered her hand and found herself faced with a strangely beautiful sight; countless mirror fragments laid scattered upon the roof, some as large as her hand, others smaller than grains of sand, but every one of them continued to shine that same faint light even though the mirror had shattered. The magic was still inside them, and the rooftop glowed like a phosphorescent sea creature all around the raised podium upon which the mirror had been placed and even down the stairs and along the sides.

What in the Goddesses name…? What had just happened? Why did the mirror bring her here? Why did it suddenly shatter? What was going on?!

A thought occurred to her; if the mirror was broken, how was she supposed to get back?

Anger and fear both threatened to overwhelm her, but Midna quashed them with furious resolve, smacking herself on the face a few times to clear her still-foggy head. She had to be there for a reason. Mr. Happy had told her she needed to ‘seek out her ancestry’ and ‘awaken her true self’, whatever that meant. Step one had been to find the mirror, and if the mirror had sent her here, then she chose to believe that this is where she was supposed to be.

She ignored the panicked voice in her head that wondered what would become of Groose now that he was trapped alone in the desert without her.

Now… If this odd ancient building smack dab in the middle of Nightmaresville was where she was supposed to be, then what exactly was she supposed to be doing here?

Sighing despondently, Midna turned back to face the staircase leading downwards and placed her hands on her hips. Lost in a bizarre world where the rules are made up and logic doesn’t matter… again. Only this time, she was directionless. Great.

With a groan, she plopped down on the steps that led down from the podium upon which the mirror had been placed and rested her chin in her hands, feeling glum.

As silence stole over her and her thoughts and emotions gradually began to calm, she slowly became aware of a strange feeling in her chest. It was almost like… a yearning, like something was pulling her downwards, calling out for her, urging her to move… She frowned, glancing around the rooftop, empty of all but herself and the still-shimmering shards of mirror. Was… this real? Or was she imagining this? Was she so desperate for guidance that she was hallucinating something calling out to her from within the building, or was this the sign she was looking for?

She bit her lip and considered her options: A, she could stay up here where it was safe, at least for now, and bask in the light of the mirror shards… or B, she could get off her fat butt and go look for whatever the source of this strange feeling was. Path A sounded enticing, if only because her poor legs were exhausted from running around Clock Town with Groose and then marching through the desert, but path B could potentially get her out of this sick wacko world, and honestly, that was sounding better and better by the minute.

Shrugging her shoulders and standing back up, she readjusted her shoulder bag and set off. It was peaceful up here, but she really needed to get going. Her friends were in danger, she wanted to find Sheik, and it’s not like she hadn’t already been dungeon-crawling today. What was one more ancient ruin to her? She was practically Indiana Jones by now. Or Lara Croft. Or… someone else who does this for a living. The Hardy Boys? No, they solved mysteries…

The roof of the building wasn’t particularly large; maybe twenty feet by twenty, with the podium in the exact center. She noticed metal grating on the floor on either side and assumed it was intended to let air and light into the building, though she hoped that the falling glass hadn’t tumbled through and hurt anyone. There was another staircase at the edge of the roof, this one leading down towards a balcony a short ways below, but as Midna descended the steps it came to her attention that the building she was on wasn’t just any regular edifice; it was a pyramid.

That caught her attention, and she frowned, perplexed. A pyramid? In what legend of the Hero was there a pyramid? And weren’t pyramids usually found in the desert, like the one she’d just been in? She didn’t remember seeing a pyramid anywhere in the museum yesterday, and she couldn’t remember any legends that involved one… So where was she? Why was she there?

Reaching the balcony, Midna paused for a moment to look out over the landscape. She was fairly high up, perhaps five or six stories, but the trees she could see looked oddly twisted and deformed. The river looked muddy, the soil dark, literally everything in sight seemed rotten, like they had festered in this unnatural darkness for so long that they had mutated into something entirely different. Small shapes could be seen moving around down below, but she was too far away to make out what they were. People, perhaps? What sort of people lived in a forsaken place like this? And would they be happy to see her?

Deciding that it might be best to avoid discovery for the time being, Midna turned away from the balcony and headed through the open doorway, entering the pyramid.

She regretted it almost instantly. The hallways were claustrophobic; short and narrow, with flickering torch brackets on the walls every so often to light the way that cast dancing shadows that made her feel like she was being followed. Every fiber of her being plead with her to turn back, only she knew that waiting on the rooftop wasn’t going to do her any good; if she wanted to get out of this pyramid, out of this world, she was going to have to suck it up and sneak her way through these creepy hallways. Besides, the farther along she went, the more insistent the feeling in her chest became. Whatever it was that was calling out to her was somewhere in this building. She needed to get to it, fast.

Another thought occurred to her as she descended the third staircase; defenseless, creeping through hallways, trying not to die… Everything that was happening to her right now seemed oddly reminiscent of the shooting last year. She scoffed, mentally berating herself. Way to go, Midna, such a comforting thought, you’re doing a really good job staying calm here…

Turning another corner, she found herself suddenly face to face with a living nightmare.

There was honestly no better description. Standing seven feet tall and approximately four feet wide, the creature before her resembled a cross between a Cyclops and a body-builder. Massive, bulging biceps, rippling pectorals, and a single massive, glistening eyeball right on the center of its hideous, bald head. He wore a sleeveless red tunic, but no shoes or pants, had strangely sickly orange skin, and a single yellow horn where his hair ought to have been.

For a moment Midna stared at him, speechless, and he stared right back, a look of confusion upon his dim, brutish face. Finally, her brain rebooted, and Midna let out an involuntary, albeit delayed, scream of terror.

Startled by the loud noise, the monster blinked its huge eye then scowled and bellowed back in defiance, showing a row of several yellow, broken teeth. It lifted its beefy arm, ready to pummel her into the ground, and Midna nearly fell over herself in her haste to flee back the way she had come.

The Cyclops roared again in rage, its footsteps thumping loudly as it barreled down the hallway behind her, giving chase. Heart hammering, breath hitching, mind whirling, Midna tore back through the hallways the way she had come, no longer caring about stealth or quiet, simply trying to escape from the monster behind her before it left her cute little body smeared across a wall.

She rounded a corner she hadn’t taken before, hoping the sudden turn would slow the much larger monster down, but no dice; it seized at the walls with its huge hands, pulling itself towards her as it ran as though it had four legs instead of two. In spite of its large size, it was gaining on her. Any second now and she’d be toast…

Glancing back over her shoulder to gauge the distance between them, a flash of yellow behind the monster suddenly caught her eye.

“Hey!” A high-pitched, childish voice bellowed from down the hall.

The monster paused in the pursuit of its prey, turning over its shoulder to examine the source of the noise.

In spite of her situation, Midna found herself forgoing her chance to escape and doing the same.

There, at the mouth of the hallway they’d just come charging through, stood the most strangely dressed child she’d ever seen. Long purple hair hidden behind a garish yellow fox mask, decked out in a long white and blue cape, the boy stood firm before the monster, holding aloft in his hands what looked like a rusted, broken sword, the sleeves of his too-long shirt covering his hands on the pommel. His entire upper torso was clothed, but his shorts were so small that you could see his pale legs all the way up to his mid-thighs, and he wore no shoes that she could see. Who was this boy? What was he doing here? And why was he distracting the monster for her?

The monster’s eye narrowed as he took the child in, clearly having similar thoughts. With a Hulk-like double-fisted floor smash, the monster roared at the smaller boy in challenge, clearly trying to intimidate it so it would leave him to kill Midna in peace. In response, the boy readied his sword and, to Midna’s horror, began charging down the hallway towards the monster.

“No, don’t!” she cried out, horrified, but it was too late. Raising its hand, the monster aimed a powerful punch straight at the boy’s masked face.

Only the boy wasn’t there. The moment before the creature let his massive fist fly, the boy leaped into the air, white cape billowing outward, and he quite literally soared straight over the monster’s blow, jagged knife flashing briefly in the torchlight before he buried it straight in the monster’s eye.

Midna thought she was going to be sick. The monster fell back with a pained roar, and the boy landed beside it, his hand still on the blade sticking out of its skull. After a moment, the monster’s body ceased convulsing and exploded in a cloud of black smoke which dispelled almost instantly. Standing up, the boy scrapped his blade distastefully on the wall and turned to examine Midna through the slits on his mask.

Midna was at a loss for words. One minute, a monster- an actual monster!- was chasing her down the hallway, ready to steamroller her into oblivion, and the next she gets saved by a little kid in a mask? You’d have thought that today couldn’t possibly get any weirder, but every time she thought she’d seen it all, another curve ball gets thrown her way…

“…Midna?!”

See, there’s another one!

“H-how…?” Midna stammered uselessly. She was trying to ask ‘how do you know my name?’, only her throat was stuck and no air was passing through.

The boy barked a laugh, a strange cross between delight and exhaustion, and he carefully raised his other hand and removed his mask.

“Goddesses, it is you!” the boy gasped, familiar red eyes taking her in with what looked like relief. “I thought I was all alone here, you have no idea how much I-“

“Kafei?!” Midna blurted out, interrupting him.

He grinned. “In the flesh! Well… sorta. Not really. I mean, I guess it is my flesh, but-“

“What? But… How…?” She was floundering, and she knew she sounded like an idiot, but at the moment she couldn't seem to wrap her head around what was happening. For one thing, Kafei was there, Kafei Dotour! Her friend from high school, a guy she hadn't seen since winter break, just suddenly waltzes into this nightmare-fuel wasteland pyramid and shanks a monster in the eye to save her life! And for another thing…

“Why are you so small?!”

He snorted and shook his head, shooting her an affectionate look. “Really, Mid? Why am I so small? With everything that’s going on right now, that’s the best you can come up with?”

She flushed prettily and was grateful that it was too dark in the hallway to see clearly.

“Well, you are!” She retorted, defensive, and he shook his head.

“No, I’m not. I’m a kid. Kid’s are supposed to be this size.”

“A kid?” she said, lost. “But… How? And why are you here?!”

“It’s… kind of a long story…” he said, carefully placing the mask back on his face.

“Oh, ‘it’s kind of a long story,’” she parroted back with extreme condescension, placing her hands on her hips and glowering down at him. “Well, excuse me for asking. I’ll just be on my way then… “

Hey, wait a minute… She could look down on him! So this is what this felt like! No wonder Sheik was always lording his height over her, this was amazing!

“Alright, fine,” he conceded, adopting his traditional patient Kafei tone. “But we probably shouldn’t stand around here. They’ve got patrols everywhere, let’s keep moving while we talk, ok?”

An image of the monster he’d just killed was summoned to her mind, bellowing in outrage, and she shivered involuntarily.

“Ok, sure. Just start talking.”

“Well…” He began slowly as the two started off down the hall once more as if they hadn’t just murdered a one-eyed monster not even ten seconds earlier, “The gist of it is, I went back to the museum last night and bumped into the kid with the mask…”

As they walked, they talked, and they exchanged stories on what had happened to them the previous night. On Kafei’s part, Midna learned how he’d been turned into a child by Majora’s Mask and how a homeless man named Tingle had taken care of him until he’d found Zelda and Colin wandering around the front of the museum. He’d taken the two back to Tingle, who let them into the museum through a secret back door, only for them to be discovered almost instantly by the masked boy, who separated them from Zelda and sent Kafei and Colin here.

His tale involved lizard monsters, a beautiful temple, Colin apparently being magically sucked into a pedestal, a cape that made him fly, a broken sword, and a ‘test’ from the masked boy of his very own.

“…So basically, after Colin vanished, I broke a window to get out of there and found myself lost in this weird nightmare world. I came down here because it seemed like the most conspicuous place. That, and because there was something shining on top of the pyramid… Midna?”

She wasn’t really paying attention. That longing sensation she’d felt before had come back, pulling at her, now closer than ever. “Huh?”

“Midna, do you… do you hear that?”

“Do what…?”

Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, she turned her attention to where Kafei was looking. At first, she heard nothing but the sound of her own breathing and the crackle of the torches. Annoyance sparked inside of her; why was he making her do this? If it wasn’t a monster, why should she care? She had much more important things to worry about, like whatever was waiting for her down the opposite hallway…

She heard it then. Crying… Someone was crying… And it was coming from the hallway opposite the direction of where Midna felt she needed to go.

“I think someone’s in trouble,” Kafei whispered, readying his broken blade.

“Uh…” Midna replied, turning her head once again to stare longingly in the other direction. A frustrated sort of agony welled up inside of her as her conscience did battle with her own selfish wants and desires.

“Are you ready? Come on, let’s go see what it is,” he urged softly, and it took every ounce of Midna’s willpower to turn away and meet Kafei’s eyes. Disappointment flooded through her, but she fought it down.

“…Yeah, ok, let’s go.”

The hallway was short; whether that was a good thing or a bad thing was up for debate. As they drew near they could hear grunts of more creatures sniffling and snorting and growling at one another in the darkness, and though every fiber of Midna’s being wanted to flee, she stayed her course.

Through the weak light of the smoky torches, a corner was illuminated just ahead. Careful to keep to the shadows close to the walls to avoid detection, the duo crept closer, tiptoeing across the cracked, aged flooring like children up to mischief. In a moment, the two had arrived at the corner and were peering cautiously around it, sizing up the situation and ready to flee at a moment’s notice.

Two goblin-like creatures stood at attention in front of a barred prison cell, each carrying a jagged spear and shield and wearing dented scraps of armor for protection. The light of the torches wasn’t particularly bright, but Midna could just make out the form of a small person huddled up within the cell, sobbing softly on the floor.

“I think it’s a kid,” she breathed softly in Kafei’s ear, worried the goblins had better ears than the Cyclops and would hear her whispering.

She shouldn’t have bothered, really. Without pausing to respond, Kafei moved.

If anyone had ever told Midna before tonight that Kafei was good in a fight, she would have laughed in their face. Kafei was too nice of a guy to ever get in a fight in the first place, and being the pretty little rich boy that he was (no disrespect intended, they were friends after all), she was doubtful that the boy could even throw a punch, let alone take one.

Yet somehow, the sight of him easily maiming that massive Cyclops earlier hadn’t prepared her for the scene she saw unfolding before her eyes in this moment. Kafei charged in, cape fluttering, broken blade held high, and before the two goblins could react to his presence, the first was being impaled through the gut with extreme prejudice.

The second goblin lowered its spear, ready to stab, but Kafei leaped high into the air, magic cape heightening his jump even as the first monster exploded into smoke, and as he reached the apex of his leap, he kicked off of the walls of the cell and flew back towards Midna, twisting as he went, cape opening wide like a glider, helping him to zoom around the smaller room at surprising speed. The goblin’s missed stab had overbalanced it, and before it could right himself, Kafei had performed a complete circuit of the small room and landed on its back, dealing multiple rapid stabs between his ribs. The creature fell over with a gurgle, and just as soon as it had started, it was over.

Midna closed her gaping mouth with a snap.

“Holy Din, Dotour,” she whistled appreciatively, hiding her shock behind her sarcasm like a pro. “You been eating red meat?”

The smaller boy snorted behind his mask.

“Here,” he said, tossing her a set of keys left behind by the now deceased guards. “Open the door and get her out of there.”

“Yessir,” she mock-saluted, stepping forward and slipping the various keys into the heavy padlock. The third attempt worked, and she tossed the lock aside as she pushed the door open, letting out a loud, skull-rending squeak. Well, so much for secrecy. Hopefully, there was nobody close enough to hear that, otherwise they'd all be dead soon.

The little girl didn’t react to the sound of the gate opening, however. She remained where she lay, curled up in a ball, sobbing.

“Hey there,” Midna whispered softly, doing her best to adopt a motherly tone; Goddesses, where was Zelda when you needed her? “It’s alright now, you’re safe, we’ve got you… We’re gonna get you out of here, ok?”

The girl can’t have been more than eight or nine. Barefoot like Kafei and decked out in a plain brown country dress with long, tangled dark hair, the little girl’s sobbing softly subsided and she slowly pushed herself to a sitting position; she kept her gaze locked firmly on the ground.

“Who… Who are you?” She asked, voice weak and raspy.

“I’m Midna, and this is Kafei,” she replied, gesturing back at her accomplice who was messing around with the weapons dropped by the now-deceased guards. “We’re going to keep you safe, ok? Can you tell me what your name is? Where are you from?”

The girl lifted her head, but kept her eyes low, not meeting Midna’s gaze; there was something vacant and listless about them, and Midna felt her heart go out to her. She must have been through something awful…

“I… I don’t…  know…” The little girl whispered, and Midna bit her lip, perturbed.

“Hey, Midna, check it out!” Kafei called from over her shoulder. Turning around, she was met with the sight of Kafei holding aloft one of the goblin’s shields in his free hand, the surface of which was so absurdly shiny it almost looked like a mirror.

“What do you think? Do I look dashing or what?”

“You look like a little kid whose mom couldn’t afford to buy him a Halloween costume,” she replied flippantly.

Kafei looked down at himself for a moment, then looked back up.

“I think you’re just jealous.”

“Mmm. Now get over here, I think she needs help…”

“Oh, right.”

Together, she and Kafei succeeded in pulling the emaciated little girl to her feet where she swayed slightly, eyes still directed at the ground.

“Are you ok to walk?” Midna asked delicately.

The girl grimaced. “Y-yes, I… The lights are so bright…”

“You’ve probably been in the dark for too long,” Kafei answered, reaching up for his mask. “Here, put this on, it should block out some of the torchlight when we walk by.”

She held out her hand, and he placed it in her palm.

“Thank… you…”

“No problem,” he said, leaning over and grinning charmingly up at her. She hastily put the mask on and hid her face. Midna had to stop herself from snorting; seriously, ten-years-old and he was still a charming little lady killer.

“Alright, so what’s the plan?” Kafei asked, shooting Midna an inquisitive look.

The sense of longing Midna felt was no less powerful than it was before, clawing at her insides, demanding to be satiated, but looking down at the little girl before them, she felt like the decision was out of her hands.

“We’ve got to find a way out so we can get this girl to safety. There’s probably a village or something nearby… We’ll look for it once we escape. Sound good?”

"Works for me," Kafei replied, grinning. "You ready?"

The little girl nodded but didn’t reply.

“Alright then, let’s get a move on!”  



	17. Beginnings in the Middle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys - Wow. 
> 
> I am so sorry for that unexpected 5-month hiatus. I had zero intention of dropping this rewrite, I just... I dunno, life got really complicated at work, and... 
> 
> Eh, nobody cares about that. Point is, I'm sorry, but I'm good now. Chapters will commence from here on out, once a day until the story is done. Probably in the evenings (er... In the evenings in my timezone) because: life. I still wanna clean up the last couple of chapters, but I'm pretty much done, so we're probably looking at 38 or 39 chapters in total, just as a heads-up. 
> 
> Ok. That's its from me. You can read now.

 

A brisk morning wind gusted across the park, rustling the grass and the leaves in the trees, eerily swaying the empty swings as though ridden by the ghosts of children.

Shuffling his tennis shoes on the dirt-encrusted pavement, Link tilted his head and cast his acquaintances a nervous look through the lenses of his heavily tinted sunglasses; Medli had made a quick pit stop into a store and bought Link an oversized hoodie to hide himself in, and had given him a pair of her sunglasses. They were pink, but they would do.

Medli and Makar sat across from each other at a rusty metal picnic table a few feet away, hunched over the remains of a hastily purchased fast-food breakfast, casting wary looks at the park around them. The burlap sack containing the pilfered instruments sat on the table by Makar’s elbow.

They were nervous; calling Auru for help had been Link’s idea, but in spite of the whole Hero of Time, legends being real, end of the world situation they suddenly found themselves thrust into, Link knew that they were still worried about meeting their teacher after having willingly snuck out of the hotel that morning.

Link sighed and leaned back against the metal support beam of the gazebo under which they were sheltering and kept his eyes on the distant parking lot. Hopefully, Auru would be able to shed some light on the situation.

“Someone’s coming,” Medli suddenly hissed, gesturing somewhere behind Link.

Link righted himself in an instant, feeling tense. They’d had a couple false-alarms already that morning; a few joggers, some kids on skateboards, a stray dog… But though the trio was explicitly waiting there for someone to show up, he still felt on edge every time somebody appeared.

He felt his hackles lower as his eyes landed upon the weary, disheveled countenance of his History teacher shuffling exhaustedly down the path. There was a sort of tiredness about him, a fatigue that rested like a mantle across his drooping shoulders, and for a startling second Link was made very aware that Auru was a man only in his early forties. Not young, per se, but certainly not old enough to be showing so many signs of age.

Makar and Medli both rose on hesitant feet, though remained behind the bench as though it were a barricade.  Their expressions were more appropriate for children having been caught breaking curfew than a duo trying to save the world. Link had no thoughts to spare for them, however; he kept silent, his heart hammering from a mixture of nerves and impatience as his favorite teacher finally arrived, stepping tiredly under the gazebo, his heavily-lined eyes locked intently on Link.

Link removed his gaudy sunglasses, but kept his hood up; he was still technically on the lamb.

“Mr. Auru,” he began, voice tense and restrained, but was immediately cut off as the older man stepped forward and seized him in a surprisingly firm hug.

“Goddesses, Link, you gave me quite a scare,” he said with a gruff half-laugh, and Link felt a small twinge of guilt in his gut.

With a heavy sigh, Auru finally released Link from the strangely paternal show of affection and held him at arms’ length, scrutinizing him with hard blue eyes.

“Are you alright?” he asked sternly, and Link hesitated, searching for an honest answer.

He settled for a safe, “I’ve certainly been better,” to which Auru nodded in an understanding sort of way before shooting a glance at the two teens still waiting awkwardly by the table.

“Medli? Makar? Are you two alright?”

Makar looked stricken at being addressed by name, and Medli flushed pink and squeaked out a weak “Yessir!”

Auru nodded again, seeming momentarily relieved before turning his shrewd gaze back to Link. The two males summed each other up in silence for a moment, and then with a rueful shake of the head, the older man said, “Well well… Stolen masks, prison breaks, missing students, break-ins at local historical monuments, allegations of kidnapping… Link, my boy, you’ve had one busy night.”

In response, Link performed a quick, surreptitious sweep of their surroundings to make sure nobody was within eye or earshot, then hastily nodded Auru towards the table.

If Auru thought Link’s behavior or the odd shuffling limp he had suddenly developed were strange, he didn’t comment on it aside from a pensive quirk of the eyebrow.

The time was now.

“Mr. Auru,” he began, speaking in a low, rushed murmur, “we don’t have a whole lot of time, and I know you have a lot of questions, questions you have a right to the answers to, but I’m afraid they’re going to have to wait.”

The older man pursed his lips in a displeased manner but thankfully remained quiet. Link took that as his permission to continue.

“Everything I’m about to tell you is going to sound absolutely insane, and that’s ok. I don’t necessarily need you to believe me, I just need your help. Zelda and the others are in danger-”

Concern flashed through Auru’s eyes.

“Link, if the others are in danger, then perhaps this is a situation for the police-”

Link shook his head emphatically.

“No.”

“If this is a matter of trust, Rusl is here in the city. He came up as soon as he heard Colin and the rest of you were in trouble, we can speak to him directly-“

“Auru, please, nobody else can help, they’d only get in the way. Honestly, even you’d get in the way, but I need someone who knows more about the legends of Hyrule than me, someone who can answer my questions more personally than a textbook or website, and there’s nobody else I trust right now aside from you.”

Auru shook his head, looking understandably bemused. “The legends of Hyrule…? Link, you’re going to have to explain what’s going on if you want my help. Where have you been? Why are the others in danger? What does this have to do with the legends of Hyrule?”

“Everything,” Link said honestly. “Absolutely everything. And I’m going to answer you, but we need to be fast. Look, just… look.”

And with that, Link hastily tugged up the front of his oversized hoodie to reveal the hilt of a sword sticking out of his waistband, the sheath of which extended down into his pant leg.

Link thought Auru’s eyebrows would have disappeared into his hair had his hairline not receded as far as it had.

“Is that…?! Why on the Goddesses’ green earth do you have a sword in your pants?!”

If Sheik or Midna had heard that comment, they’d have had a field day.

Rather than answer, Link drew the sheath completely from his pant leg, one he’d stolen from one of the displays at the Sacred Grove, and held it up for Auru to examine.

“Do you recognize this?” he asked in a hushed whisper, casting furtive, anxious glances around him as he waited for Auru’s response.

Auru shook his head, not understanding.

With a frustrated grunt, he drew the blade completely from the scabbard and brandished it in front of his teacher’s face, letting the sunlight glint off of the cold steel.

“Do you recognize it now?”

Auru's eyes traveled slowly down the length of the blade, pausing for a moment on the Triforce insignia emblazoned near the base of the metal before continuing on to the infamous gem-incrusted cross-guard and blue-and-green slashed handle.

His eyes widened slowly.

“By the Goddesses…” he breathed, voice hoarse, face growing suddenly pale. He slumped back, body slack, eyes fixated fanatically upon the weapon in Link’s hand. Link could see the questions bouncing around in his brain, and could almost follow the older man’s line of thought. ‘Why did Link have a sword in his pants?’ became ‘Why did Link have the _Master Sword_ in his pants?’, which turned into ‘ _How_ did Link have the Master Sword _at all_?’, and finally, ‘What in Din’s name is going on here?!’

After what felt like an eternity to Link, realization dawned upon the older man, and his eyes darted away from the sword towards Link’s left hand. Link obliged his silent question, carefully shifting the blade from left hand to right and removing the black, fingerless glove with his teeth.

The glove dropped forgotten to the floor, and Link showed the back of his hand to his teacher, the three golden triangles emblazoned thereon shining resplendently beneath the shade of the gazebo.

“Farore…” Auru wheezed, paler than a ghost, “It’s true…”

Leaning down so the two were eye-to-eye, Link made sure he had Auru’s full attention.

“I need you to pay very close attention to everything I’m about to tell you. Yes, I’m the Hero of Time. This is the Master Sword. I’ve known this since last year, at the end of the Ordon High Massacre.  Zelda is the Princess of Destiny; Ganondorf was the King of Thieves. Fate wove us back into reality a year ago, and now it looks like it’s up to something all over again.

“I'm not the one who stole Majora's Mask from the museum; I haven't really done much of anything aside from getting arrested, turned into a wolf, and then get Medli and Makar to turn me back again. Some guy in a cape broke me out of jail, and now I find out that all of my friends are trapped inside the museum and I really need your help figuring out what’s going on so I can go fulfill my destiny and save the world or whatever it is that I’m supposed to be doing right now.”

Well… Maybe he could have summed things up a little more succinctly. Auru’s mouth was gaping open, but he closed it after an imploring look from Link and swallowed uncomfortably.

“Ah…” he said, grasping the table and looking like he might be sick. “Ah… Goodness… Um… The Hero of Time…? That’s, uh… That’s a lot to put on someone’s shoulders, Link. Um… Give me a second, I need to process all this… Wow… Uh, what exactly what your question again?”

Link blinked. His question? Oh. He… hadn’t even asked his question yet.

“Listen,” he said, sitting down next to Medli and forcing them to hastily scoot to the side to make room for him, “Zelda and the others are being held captive in the Museum. I don’t know what’s going on in there, but it can’t be anything good. The problem is, I don’t even understand what’s going on right now. I mean, last year the answer was obvious enough - Ganondorf was evil, stop the shooting, save my friends. But this time? I can’t figure out what’s going on. I just need you to look into that vast knowledge of ancient legends and tell me if you know anything about a shadow version of the Hero of Time.”

Auru’s countenance had calmed down considerably during Link’s explanation, but he still looked ready to pass out at the brush of a feather.

Trembling slightly, he ran an absent finger over his graying mustache and mumbled, “A shadow version of the Hero of Time? What do you mean?”

Link scuffed his shoe on the floor, trying to reign in his impatience.

“There was… this person, just now, at the Sacred Grove, when I drew the Master Sword. He looks just like me, only all dark, like a shadow, and his eyes are red. He uses some sort of dark magic to get around, and he… Well, he implied that he knew me, that he’s known me for centuries, you know? Like, that he knew past me’s. He’s got to be the person behind this, but I don’t know who he is or what he’s trying to accomplish outside of killing me, and if killing me is all he wants he’s sure going about it an odd way, so… Can you help me out?”

Link didn’t want to admit it, but this was basically the endgame for him. If Auru couldn’t provide a miracle answer, then he wasn’t likely to find anything in any library or historical database; Auru knew his legends better than Midna knew clichés or Sheik knew movies. Link didn’t have the time to search those, anyway, and it’s not like walking into a public library was really an option for a criminal like him. If Auru had nothing for him, he’d have no choice but to rush in blind and hope for the best.

Auru scratched at his chin, looking puzzled. “A Shadow version of the Hero of Time? Like an evil Hero? Or a Dark you? No, my boy, I don’t remember anything of the sort…”

Link felt his heart drop. Auru had failed him after all. All of this had been a waste of time…

“Unless… Well, it’s a bit of a stretch, but…”

“What?” Link asked hurriedly, desperate for any branch to cling to and save himself from drowning, no matter how flimsy the branch turned out to be.

Auru frowned absently. “Well, a line comes to memory from the old stories of the Hero of Time, the ones that were preserved orally, some of the oldest that we have on record. I remember writing about this in my thesis back in college, but it was more of a footnote than anything worth discussing.

“You see, most versions of the tale of the Hero of Time make an odd comment during the section that details his rescuing of the Zoran Princess and the awakening of the Sage of Water. It was something like, ‘beneath the lake he overcame himself', or something to that effect, which most people interpret as a vague, generic way of saying that he overcame his own weaknesses, but there was one particular translation that had it worded differently… It was something like, ‘underwater he raged with his reflection and found peace'. It's strange, because it's almost nonsensical, and most disregard it as a mistranslation, or that the story got away with itself over time. The oral tradition is the least reliable means of preserving history. It wouldn't be worth mentioning if you hadn't brought that up."

Link failed to see how it was worth mentioning regardless of what he had said.

“Is… that all there is?” Link asked, trying to keep the disappointment from his voice and failing miserably.

Auru shrugged, looking helpless. “I think so… You say he was all black? There are several myths surrounding black swordsmen; the Phantom of the Forsaken Fortress, the Arbiter of Death, the Black Blade of the legend of the Four Sword – but none have been linked to fact and all ring of superstition and ghost stories. If what you say is true and the legends are all real, it literally could be anything. Especially since our understanding of the legends is almost certainly wrong. So much detail was lost or changed over the centuries… I wouldn’t be surprised if the Hero turned out to have an evil twin brother, or the ghost of a past life is chasing you down. Reality is stranger than fiction.”

Link didn't answer. He was staring down at the blade he'd lain horizontally upon the tabletop, feeling frustration and anger welling up inside of him. So Auru was a dead end after all… Well, regardless of the Dark him’s intentions, Link was determined to make sure that they not be fulfilled. He had friends to save, a world to protect, and a little girl who was waiting for him. He needed to get a move on.

“Link,” Auru asked before Link could make a move to rise, “ah… Are you so certain this ‘Dark you’ is the one behind this… whatever it is?”

Link paused in the act of removing the sword from the table and gave Auru an odd look.

“Uh… No, I guess not. I mean, he admitted to me that he’d framed me for the robbery and kidnapped my friends, but… Why do you ask?”

Auru looked distinctly uncomfortable, and everything from his pallid facial expression to the defensive set of his body told Link that he regretted what was about to come out of his mouth.

“It’s just… ah… Ganondorf. You said he was the… The King of Thieves… Well, if he truly is the great King of Darkness spoken of in legend, and if he really bore the Triforce of Power… Well, doesn’t it make sense that he’d be the one behind this?”

The look that Link shot Auru couldn’t be described as anything other than disdainful, and he calmly opened his mouth to explain to his mentor why it wasn’t even feasibly possible that Ganondorf could be the one behind this, because, to be perfectly frank, Ganondorf was dead.

The memory of a conversation had between student and teacher a year ago in a hospital room suddenly flashed through Link’s mind.

_“The Hero of Time is the only person in history who can wield the Master Sword with impunity, the only  
weapon capable of striking down the Demon King, and seeing as the Master Sword is still sitting in its pedestal at the Temple of Time up in Castleton…"_

It was as though an icy hand had reached out and crushed his insides. Ganondorf couldn’t be killed without the Master Sword… He’d known that. He’d known that for a while now. How had it not occurred to him even once tonight that the person behind all of this was the very same who had plagued him for countless generations? Knowing, as he did, that only the Master Sword could kill him? Knowing, as he did, that Ganondorf had been stabbed by a mundane blade and fallen from a window. Ganondorf possessed the Triforce of Power; why on earth had he allowed himself to believe for the past year that Ganondorf was dead?

But wasn’t he dead? He’d been through an autopsy, Chief Smith had read him the report on his hospital bed. Ganondorf was dead… a scientist couldn’t have mistaken that. Could they?

“Ganondorf…” Link rasped, feeling sick. “Auru, Ganondorf is dead… His body was taken away along with all the other dead shooters. He… he was buried, wasn’t he?”

Auru shook his head, looking forlorn. “Link… You wouldn’t know this, as you were still in a coma, but… The morgue where Ganondorf and some of the other victim’s bodies were kept… It burned down a few nights after the shooting. The police couldn’t find a cause and chalked it up to vandalism, from families of the fallen wanting revenge on his corpse, but… his body was never exhumed. It was assumed it burned to ash in the flames.”

Link dropped the sword on the table with a clang and drove his palms into his eye sockets, struggling in vain to rub away the exhaustion he suddenly felt.

Goddesses above… Ganondorf was alive. He’d been alive for over a year now, and Link and Zelda had had absolutely zero indication that it was even a possibility. What had he been doing all this time?

He needed to get to the museum, now.

“Auru,” Link said after a moment’s silence, “did you drive here?”

There was a pause, and then, “Er… yes. In a rental car.”

Link lowered his hands and shot Auru a fierce look. “I need you to take me to the museum as fast as you possibly can.”

Auru blinked in surprise, then stammered, “B-but Link, you… you can’t go to the museum.”

Already standing and picking up his sword and sheath, Link replied in a calm voice, “Auru, I’m the Hero of Time. The world is in danger, my friends are in danger, and there’s a little girl I need to save. Give me a ride or don’t, but I am going to the museum, and if you try to get in my way, then I’ll have to go through you.”

“Link!” Medli gasped, horrified, but Link cut her off with a reproachful glare.

“If Ganondorf is behind this, then things are much worse than I thought. He’s had a whole year to cook up a new plan, and whatever it is, my girlfriend and my sister and the rest of my friends are at the heart of it. You don’t understand what this man is capable of. Forty dead in a school shooting? That was before he knew who he was, before he’d fully awoken the Triforce of Power. You don’t know him like I do. He has to be stopped, and it has to be now, before that forty becomes forty thousand.”

“But Link-“ Makar offered argumentatively, but Link snapped, slamming his fist on the table, silencing the younger boy and making the others draw back in shock.

“He has Tatl!” Link roared, and in a moment he could see her again in that split second before she faded into the dark, arms outstretched, desperately reaching, usually grumpy face full of terror, warm brown eyes tear-filled and confused and betrayed. Not understanding, why wasn’t Ling getting up? Why he wasn’t heeding her cries and saving her?

He clenched his jaw for a moment and waited for the unexpected surge of rage to quell and for his muscles to stop trembling. When he opened his eyes again, he was met with the fearful gaze of Makar and the sorrowful, understanding pity of Medli.

“…I promised I’d keep that little girl safe. I failed. I will get her back before Dark me or Ganondorf or anyone hurts her. I will save my friends. I will stop whatever is happening. If you don’t want to help, then get out of my way.”

Auru placed a comforting hand on Link’s arm.

“My boy, it’s not a question of wanting to help you. You can’t go to the museum. You can't even get in. Haven't you-? But I suppose you haven't had any time to watch the news… Link, nobody can get into the museum right now. Everyone is being kept out."

All eyes were on Auru now. The older man sighed and ran a distracted hand through his hair.

“Nobody can explain it. There seems to be some sort of… invisible wall stopping anyone from getting within a certain distance from the building. The news is having a hay-day, they think it’s a terrorist attack, or that some country has developed force field technology like in sci-fi movies. I wouldn’t have believed it myself if not for Rusl. He’s at the site, keeping me informed since we figured that the ruckus at the museum was somehow connected to you and the others’ disappearance.

“I had no idea they were actually in the museum, however… It’s been assumed that it’s empty, as none of the museum workers were able to get in this morning. And knowing now as I do that you’re the Hero of Time and that the Triforce and other old legends are somehow involved… Well, this invisible wall makes a bit more sense. Still, I don’t see how you’re going to manage to sneak past the police, the SWAT, the National Guard, and the Army, and still make it through that barrier. It just doesn’t seem possible.”

Link was inclined to agree with him. An invisible barrier? No doubt it was some magical shield of Ganondorf’s devise meant to keep regular people out of his hair while he did… whatever it was he was trying to do. It was also likely meant to keep Link out. So then how to get around it?

It was at that moment that Fi decided to reintroduce herself.

Exploding out from the gem on the Master Sword’s pommel, the spirit of the sword materialized in a sudden, unexpected burst of light that made all four people standing around the table scream in fright and duck out of the way.

She pirouetted gracefully in the air and came to rest directly by Link, who was currently sitting on his butt on the dirty concrete, an arm thrown protectively over his face, waiting to be attacked.

“Master, might I question this human as to the specificity of this magical phenomenon?” Fi asked in a cool, almost robotic female voice.

Link, who had completely forgotten about Fi’s existence what with the whole ‘let's meet with my teacher to explain to him that all the legends of the past are true and, oh yeah, my arch-nemesis is back from the dead to exact his revenge on everyone I love' thing going down, shot Fi an outraged look and bellowed, “Fi! What is wrong with you?! A little warning next time?!”

“Forgive me, Master,” she replied, not sounding sorry in the slightest, “I see by your elevated blood pressure and heart rate that I have startled you. In the future, I shall endeavor to be less surprising.”

“You do that,” Link grunted sourly, pushing himself back to his feet and sheathing his sword. At his side, Medli was busy brushing dust from her skirt and Makar was wiping the lens of his glasses with surprising venom. Across the table, Mr. Auru was staring at Fi with a mixture of awe and abject horror.

Oh, right.

“Mr. Auru, this is Fi, the spirit of the Master Sword. Fi, this is Auru, my history teacher.”

Auru made an odd gurgling, choking noise and stared wildly at Link, his face an odd shade of red.

“Th-the Master Sword has a spirit?!”

Link cast Fi a dubious look, then shrugged at Auru as if to say, ‘apparently?’

“Auru,” Fi stated promptly, turning her full attention on the older man, who looked about ready to have an apoplexy, “I wish to ascertain the nature of this barrier. Would you kindly describe to me in detail the barrier’s appearance and general characteristics?”

Auru’s mouth gaped like a fish.

“Uh, well… well… I-I haven’t actually seen it in person, just some shots on the news… But it doesn’t actually have an appearance, it’s completely invisible.”

If Link thought that description was entirely useless, he was wrong. Nodding perfunctorily, Fi immediately turned back to Link and replied, “Master, I deduce that this barrier is of a generally weak variety, intended only to keep out insects, wild animals, and mortals without any proficiency in the arcane. Judging by the makeup of your society, this accounts for roughly one-hundred percent of the citizens of Hyrule. In such a situation, even a weak barrier is exceedingly effective.”

“So…” Link drawled, searching for some clue on the impassive marble face as to what she was implying and finding nothing, “You’re saying it’s useless for me to try?”

“As you currently find yourself, it would be statistically impossible to breach the barrier.”

“Great," Link grumped, plopping back down beside Medli and glaring at no one in particular. "Well, now what do we do?"

He meant it as a rhetorical question, but Fi answered just the same.

“To bypass a weak barrier, one need merely envelope themselves in magic of the same element. In this instance, I deduce a seventy percent chance that the barrier is of the Shadow variety. You need to transform yourself back into the beast form you used earlier, and the barrier will allow you to pass.”

Link stared at Fi at a loss.

“You mean turn back into a wolf? But how? I’m not the one who turned me into it in the first place, it was that guy with the cape, he gave me some weird rock and when I touched it, I turned into a wolf. I don’t suppose you happen to have one of those weird rocks on you, do you?”

“No, Master.”

“Of course not.”

“However, sensors indicate the presence of said rock in the immediate vicinity. It is there, on the table, within the bag belonging to the Sage of the Wind.”

All eyes turned to Makar, who offered up a sheepish grin.

“I-I was going to tell you… When we played the song and restored power to the Master Sword, and you turned back into a person, this sort of… fell out of you.”

He opened up the bag and shuffled the instruments out of the way, revealing a familiar black stone streaked with orange and seemingly absorbing the light around it nestled down at the bottom.

“I-it didn’t look very safe, so I thought it best not to let it lie around where somebody could just touch it by accident, so… I used my violin to push it into the bag.”

Link stared, flummoxed. Had that actually just happened? Had fate just contrived to give him a way into the museum and save his friends? Apparently. Sometimes, he loved destiny.

“So… What does this mean?” Medli asked, looking confused.

“It means I have a way into the museum,” Link replied, reaching out and taking the sack from Makar. “If I touch the stone, I’ll turn back into a wolf, and if Fi is to be believed, I can make it back into the museum without a problem. I can probably run past all the police and through the barrier before any of them realize I’m there. It’s a piece of cake.”

“Master, I must warn you. If you touch the stone and become a beast, you cannot draw the blade. I will be unable to assist you or return you to your human form. You may be stuck as an animal for an indefinite amount of time."

Link hesitated, then shrugged, fitting the Master Sword back into his pants and gathering the bag up more securely in his hand.

“It doesn’t matter. This is the only way for me to get into the museum, and at least I can still fight as a wolf. Maybe Zelda will be able to help if I can find her. Regardless, we need to go.”

“As you say, Master.”

And with that, Fi disappeared back into the sword in a twinkle of light just as abruptly as she had appeared.

“Auru, I know you were against this, but I really do need your help. Are you with me?”

Auru, who was still sitting down at the picnic table, shook his head and let out a strange laugh, running a hand over his face.

“You’re giving me a chance to help the Hero of Time and become part of the legends? You’re making a dream come true, Link. Let’s go.”

* * *

Marin had no idea how long they’d been flying before Groose pointed out the fortress below them and suggested they land.

It had to have been more than an hour. At least it felt that long; her legs felt like jelly from clinging to the back of the massive masked eagle that Groose had somehow wrangled into submission. From up in the clouds, with the wind rushing through her hair, the desert hadn’t felt nearly as hot as it had back on the ground. She was grateful for that; she’d been holding on to Groose’s midsection in a death-grip, terrified of falling off, and knew that if she’d been sweating the entire time that it was likely that she’d be permanently stuck to his back.

As it was, by the time Groose noticed the fortress (the first building they’d seen since the ruins in the desert), the landscape below had changed dramatically.

Gone was the desert and the endless dunes of sand. The area they found themselves in now was markedly different; though still arid, the dirt was firmly packed beneath their feet, and a few trees and small bushes could be seen poking up through the tough dirt every now and then. Green hills could be seen off in the distance, and a few clouds dotted the skies. The area resembled more of what she had heard Kakariko Village looked like, just without the city.

When the giant bird touched down and the two teens clambered off, Marin took a quiet look around before saying, softly, “…Where’s the ocean?”

“I dunno," Groose responded, giving his new pet an affectionate pat on the neck and turning to take in the surroundings. "We flew in the same direction you came from, so it has to be this way unless the bird turned. Do you remember how long you were flyin’ for? Maybe we just haven’t gone far enough.”

Marin shook her head. She had no idea how long that bird had held her in its claws, but she was starting to get the sinking feeling that she wasn’t going to get back to Linebeck and the boat. She hoped he was ok.

With a sudden gust of wind and a piercing cry, the bird took off back into the air and soared away, out of sight behind the ruins of the fortress.

“Wait!” Groose hollered, jogging a few paces and waving his arms wildly over his head. “Come back! You’re our ride!”

“I think I can call him back with one of my flutes…” Marin offered helpfully while Groose kicked the ground in frustration and cursed his bad luck. “I was playing one when he came and kidnapped me in the first place.”

“Really?” Groose asked, shooting her a surprised look over his shoulder.

“Well, I’m pretty sure,” she corrected, abashed. “Still, the poor thing probably needs to rest for a little while…”

“Yeah, totally,” Groose nodded, looking thoughtful. “He’s a tough little guy, isn’t he?”

Marin nodded in agreement, and an awkward silence descended between them.

Groose scuffed his shoe on the hard-packed soil and let his gaze wander around them, determinedly looking anywhere but at her, awkwardly clapping his arms in front of him in a would-be casual sort of way, only it made him look decidedly odd.

Curious, Marin tilted her head to the side and studied the strange guy she’d suddenly found herself stuck with. Judging by the jersey he wore and his large, muscular stature, he was probably a jock of some sort. Being new to the school, she didn’t know who most of the people who’d come on the field trip were, and she only knew a handful of the ones who’d tagged along to rescue Link. Who was this one, then? One of Link’s friends?

When Groose caught her staring at him, his face flushed unexpectedly and he quickly averted his gaze. Marin felt a smile form on her face. Aw, how cute, he was shy!

“So…” she began, eager to discover exactly how Groose and Link’s relationship went and to maybe find out a little bit more about her new companion, only the larger, awkward boy cut her off with a sudden, “You wanna go inside and check out the building?”

Normally she’d be a little offended at being interrupted, but the idea of exploring an abandoned building just seemed so adventurous and exciting that it immediately removed any negative emotions from her mind and she responded with an emphatic, “Ooh, yes!”

And thus did the two red-haired teens find themselves in a decrepit, old, abandoned manor building.

“Hello?” Marin called out, listening to the sound of her own voice echoing off the many dust walls of the run-down fortress. “Is anybody here?”

There was no response.

“Aw, there’s probably nobody around," Groose said knowledgeably. "I mean, just look at the state of this place; I don't think anybody's been here for years."

Marin sighed, absently twirling a strand of hair around her finger. “I was hoping we could find out where we were, or see if anybody knew what was going on, but… I dunno. What do you think we should do, Groose?”

She turned to her companion to find him staring fixated at the lock of hair she'd been playing with. He jumped when she said his name and flushed, looking flustered.

“O-oh, I, uh… I dunno. I mean I guess we can still poke around. Maybe we can find a map or somethin’…?”

“That’s a great idea!” she beamed, her morale instantaneously restored. He grinned sheepishly in response.

The ruin was a wonder, once you looked past the dirt covering every surface, the cracks in the walls, the dusty remains of the furniture and the desiccated skeletons of portraits on the walls. She decided after a while that it must have been some sort of manor house at one point in time.  It was like a world within itself, a glimpse into a time capsule from an age so far gone it had vanished from memory.

There were, however, no maps; or at least if there had been maps, they had long since vanished, either decayed with time or devoured by pests and scavengers. The only salvageable things were found in the armory, in which they found several dented suits of armor that could probably be sold to a museum for a decent price, a few broken maces, a bucket full of rusted blades, spear-heads and arrow-points that lacked shafts, a row of shields that looked like they couldn’t stop a paperclip let alone a sword, and an entire pile of cannonballs.

This room was Groose’s favorite, Marin quickly discovered. He had a blast rooting through the old weaponry, laughing and showing Marin all the strange objects he found littered throughout piles of forgotten goods, and to her delight had quickly opened up to her, shedding his strangely shy façade. The two had even had a mock sword-fight in which she pretended to behead him before becoming horribly distraught at what she’d done and impaling herself upon her own blade.

Marin decided that she liked Groose just as much as she did the rest of Link’s friends who she had already met. For a jock, he was surprisingly knowledgeable about some of the strangest subjects; not that jocks were stupid, and it was wrong to take stereotypes seriously, but his random, surprising factoids about some of the things in the room caught her off-guard.

For one thing, he was able to explain to her exactly how the old, busted cannon they’d found in the corner worked, and he did so in a way that wasn’t boring to her in the slightest. He knew a bit about fighting, or at least enough to explain how the various weapons worked and in which situations of medieval warfare that they would be employed (she had honestly believed that soldiers just picked a weapon and ran onto a field and killed each other. He’d gotten a good laugh out of that, but somehow his laughter hadn’t made her feel stupid).

They’d even taken turns picking up the cannonballs and hurling them like shot-puts. His had gone surprisingly far, accidentally shattering the ancient iron ball when it struck the ground. She couldn’t even lift hers up.

She didn't know how long the two stayed in that room playing with the weapons, but after a while, Groose exclaimed in a loud voice, "Hey, come check this out!"

Marin, who’d been trying on the various helmets to her own personal amusement (she so needed to wash her hair when she got home…), quickly dropped what she was doing, cursed as the helmet struck her toe, and hopped on one foot over to the lunky rugby player who was fiddling with the lock on an old, dented chest.

“Ow, ow- ooh! What’s that?!”

“Dunno,” he grunted, jiggling the lock before giving up and trying to simply pry the chest open with his hands. No dice. "Hey, wanna pass me one of those cannonballs?"

“Um… no?” she said, chuckling nervously. He blinked, and she showed him her arms as if to say, ‘Look at these twigs!’

Groose barked a laugh. “Oh, right. Duh. Hold on.”

A moment later, Groose had returned to where Marin was crouching over the old metal box, cannonball in hand.

“Alright, sit that thing on its back. I’m gonna try to bash this right on the lock and see if it breaks.”

“Aye-aye, captain!” Marin chirped, adjusting the chest as Groose had directed and standing back. He knelt down in front of it and sent Marin a quick, conspiratorial grin.

“Aaaaaand GO!” Groose hollered, raising the ball in both hands and slamming it down on the metal lock. With a surprisingly quiet crack, the padlock broke, and Groose dropped the ball to the side, tearing the broken lock from the front of the chest and wrenching the lid open.

Marin and Groose let out twin gasps of surprise.

The chest was lined with padded red velvet, a little faded and dusty but still recognizable as what it was. It was what was on the velvet that had caught their attention, however.

Two golden gauntlets lay nestled upon the cushion, each adorned with a large red ruby on the back of the hand. They were fingerless, covering only about up to the first knuckle on each finger, and the golden plates that covered the back of the gauntlets were attached to gloves of firm yet supple leather. Surprisingly, though age had clearly tarnished and all but destroyed everything else in the room, the gauntlets appeared untouched.

Groose reached out slowly, picking one up and turning it over in his hands.

“Weird…” he breathed, meshing the gauntlet with his thumbs. “The leather feels new…”

“You think they’re magic?” Marin asked, picking up the second one to give it a look.

Groose looked at her askance. “Dunno… You reckon they’re safe?”

Marin shrugged. "Probably. I doubt the family who owned this place would've kept them in their armory if they weren't supposed to be used… Hey, maybe they give you cool powers! Maybe you can shoot fireballs or something! Try them on!"

“Me?!” Groose squawked. “Nuh-uh! What if they turn me into a gorilla or something?!”

“You’d make an adorable gorilla!”

“Ha, nice try! You put them on!”

“My hands aren’t big enough! Come on, pretty please? For me?”

She sent him her most pathetic puppy-dog look, puffing out her bottom lip and fluttering her eyelashes, her hands clasped imploringly under her chin.

Groose’s entire face flushed scarlet and he quickly looked away. Grumbling to himself, he took a deep breath, put on his ‘determined’ face, and quickly tugged the gauntlets on both hands.

They were a perfect fit. Sadly, nothing fascinating happened when he put them on. Groose even tried waving his hands in the air and yelling “Fireball, go!” at Marin’s behest, but still nothing.

Marin sighed, standing back up. “Well, I guess that was a letdown.”

“Maybe,” Groose conceded, joining her on his feet. “But hey, look how dashing the Groosenator looks with these sweet gloves on. Get ready ladies; the Groose is loose!”

He slid his gauntleted hands along his pompadour, coiffing his hair before striking an overly dramatic pose and flashing a cheesy grin, winking obnoxiously.

She couldn’t help but snort a laugh, and he dropped the ridiculous pose with a chuckle, looking pleased he’d gotten that reaction out of her.

“Come on, captain chivalry. Me, you, and that swag of yours have a flight to catch.”

The duo walked back through the ruins of the old manor house and returned to the sunlight and fresh air of the outside world. The sun had climbed a little higher in the sky, and Marin wondered not for the first time what time it was back in Castleton. If it was morning here, it was probably morning there too. She was exhausted; what she wouldn’t give to just keel over and sleep right there in the dirt. If she had to go one more sleepless night, she might just die.

They walked around to the back of the building where they’d seen the large bird fly off to, but didn’t see him anywhere. She would have to call him, then. As she started rummaging through her bag to find the exact flute she’d been playing when their friendly giant eagle had snatched her from the crow’s nest, Groose leaned casually against the outer wall, one gauntleted hand against the stone, the other resting on his hip, and shot Marin a lazy grin.

“Be honest… Tacky as they are, I make these gloves look goo-ACK!”

With the sound of stone scraping on stone, the wall Groose was leaning on swung inward, revealing an opening into the building that Groose toppled straight into it.

“Groose!” Marin called, panicked, all thoughts of summoning her bird friend forgotten.

Darting forward, she entered the semi-darkness of the manor house once more to find Groose lying atop the paving stones, a slightly disoriented look on his face.

“Are you ok?” she cried, kneeling down beside him and touching his shoulder.

“Y-yeah, I think so… Just surprised me, that’s all.”

Something caught Marin’s eye. The room they were in… they hadn’t visited it yet. She thought they’d been to every room on the ground floor, and yet this one… Where was the door? There wasn’t one, so far as she could see. Nothing in the room but empty torch brackets and a massive slab of stone against the far wall upon a raised pedestal with some writing carved into it.  What was this place?

She pointed this out to Groose, who frowned.

“You don’t suppose this rock I pushed over was the door, do you? Is this some sort of secret room?”

Marin shrugged. “Maybe? But if so, why? All that’s in here is that rock.”

Groose pushed himself upwards and frowned at the section of the wall he had moved.

“How in Din’s name did I push this? It has to weight a ton. There’s literally no way that the weight of me leaning against this alone was enough to cause the wall to shift…”

He trailed off, staring at the golden gauntlets on his hands in shock.

“Goddesses… Marin… I think you were right! I think these gauntlets are magical!”

Marin frowned, not understanding.

“You have fire powers?”

“What? No! They give me super-strength! Look, watch!”

And with that, Groose immediately spun around and, putting his whole body into it, threw an almighty punch at the still-standing section of the wall.

A moment later, Groose was hopping up and down, flapping his hand frenetically, cursing as he glared venomously at the section of building that remained oblivious to his existence.

“Well…” Marin offered, feeling simultaneously amused and pitying, “it was worth a try…?”

He scowled at her, then shook his head and barked a laugh.

“Ok, so… Maybe I’m not Superman… but something about these gloves helped us get in here. Just watch, I’ll prove it.”

She shrugged, not doubting him in the slightest in spite of his not-so-spectacular one-sided battle with a wall, and instead turned her attention to the only object in the room; the mysterious stone slab.

Groose followed her gaze, then sent Marin an appraising look. “Wanna go check it out?”

She grinned and nodded. She decided then that the thing she liked most about Groose was their shared sense of adventure.

Two steps into the room, it happened.

A gust of surprisingly chill wind caught them up, tousling their hair and clothing, and the light around them seemed to dim. The torch brackets on either side of the stone slab suddenly ignited, casting pale shadows across the room, and with the sound of dead leaves skittering across pavement, a voice like a whisper echoed off the walls.

“Who dares invade my unending slumber?”

Before Marin could think of a logical response, a figure appeared before them, floating in the air in front of the stone tablet.

It was a man, with a long, somber face and eyes that glowed white like the frost. His skin looked pale and bloodless.

Surprisingly short and pot-bellied, his clothes, all shades of green and grey, looked like they belonged to a renaissance painter. He wore an odd, flat-topped hat upon his head, obscuring his oily blonde hair that hung past his ears in waves, and had a matching mustache, poufy and curled upwards at the ends. In one hand he held a lantern that glowed with a pale greenish light, and in the other, he held, of all things, what was unmistakably a baton.

His entire image was translucent, and that, coupled with the sudden darkness, the chill wind, and the fact that he was _floating in the air_ seemed to indicate rather clearly that she was face-to-face with a ghost.

A ghost. An actual ghost.

“Oh Goddesses…” she whimpered, feeling her heart rise up into her throat.

“You would defile the Goddesses’ name with your wretched mouth? Hold your tongue, infidel, and know your place… All those who seek to pillage from the dead shall earn their spot beside them… Thieves and murderers have no place in Hyrule-“

“Whoa!” Groose said, waving his gold-plated hands in front of him frantically. “We’re not thieves, honest!”

“Not thieves?!” the sallow-faced ghost cried vehemently, and the torches surged with renewed vigor. “And yet you wear those on your hands, the very treasure given to my family for safe-keeping, an heirloom of the Hero of Time himself?! What farce!”

“N-no, he’s telling the truth, I swear!” Marin pleaded, her voice sounding oddly squeaky in her ears.

“Liars!” the spirit cried, brandishing a baton like a rapier and threatening to run them through, "Desecrators! Defilers of my fathers' house! Leave! Begone! Flee this holy ground, lest I rip the very flesh from your bones and drag your souls down to the infinite darkness, blacker even than your craven hearts!”

Marin’s legs had frozen, rooted to the spot, as a primal sort of terror rose up inside of her. It was one thing to find yourself confronted with monsters, robot skeletons, disembodied suits of armor, and gigantic birds. It was another thing entirely to see a ghost. Neither of them moved or could find another word to say in response to the spirit’s threat.

The ghost, it seemed, didn’t like being ignored.

Raising its baton, it aimed it at Groose’s heart and cried harshly, “To the netherworld with you then, filthy rogue!”, and charged.

Marin shrieked and threw her hands over her mouth, horrified, but she was too late to act. Groose barely had time to throw his hands up protectively before the spirit’s ethereal form collided with him…

…and passed through his body harmlessly.

Blinking stupidly, Groose glanced down at his chest as though to make sure he didn’t have a massive gaping hole through his torso before turning around and shooting the ghost a confused look.

The ghost, for his part, seemed equally baffled and a tiny bit embarrassed. Righting himself (the over-excited lunge seemed to have toppled him over), the ghost faced Groose once more and slashed at his throat.

Groose flinched, but the baton passed through without effect.

“Uh…” he tried, but before he could speak the ghost stabbed again.

And again.

And again.

While the ghost floated in front of Groose, repeatedly stabbing into his chest with his makeshift ethereal weapon, Groose looked over his head and shot Marin a baffled shrug.

“Does it hurt?” she asked worriedly, convinced that something must be happening, or else the spirit wouldn’t be trying so hard.

“Er, not really,” Groose answered, scratching absently at his chin. “Kinda tickles…”

“T-tickles?!” the spirit squawked, offended, finally ceasing his attacks and facing Groose with hands on his hips. “How dare you insult my mighty blows! Do you not know who I am?!”

“No?” Groose and Marin answered together.

The ghost swelled with righteous indignation.

“I am Flat the Younger, of the Composer Brothers! The greatest composers in all of Hyrule!”

“Who?” Groose asked, but Marin’s heart had stopped beating.

“Y-you’re Flat?! Flat the composer brother?! Oh my… Gods, I… I-it's such an honor to meet you!" Marin gushed, feeling light-headed, completely forgetting his threat to drag them down to the afterlife and the fact that she was dealing with a departed spirit and immediately ran forward to shake his hand.

Her hand passed right through him.

"Hmph. Well." Flat responded haughtily, ignoring the awkward moment that had just transpired and floating backward, putting a little space in between him and the two living teens. “At least one of you seems to know your history.”

“Oh, but I do!” Marin said eagerly, recovering with gusto and practically bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet. “I’m a student of music. We learned all about you and your brother, Sharp. You composed some of the most beautiful classics of your age and inspired so many other great composers and musicians. Meeting you is like a dream!”

“Oh. Yes, well…” he replied, looking suddenly uncomfortable with the fervor apparent in Marin’s voice. For all his talk and bravado, he didn’t seem very well equipped to handle unexpected praise. “I see… Thank you… Very flattering, of course… Be that as it may, I simply cannot abide theft from my family’s house!”

"We didn't steal them," Groose explained again. "We were lost and found this run-down building and came inside to see if anyone was home. I found these in one of the rooms in the back."

“Oh, and you just happened to ‘accidentally’ use the Golden Gauntlets to push aside the block that hid my tomb and awaken me from my slumber?!” Flat scoffed sarcastically.

“Uh… pretty much?”

“A likely story!” he cried. “You have clearly come to steal my knowledge of the melodies of the kingdom! Well, you shall never have them! I took my secrets to the grave, and it is there I intend to keep them!”

“But we’re at your grave,” Groose pointed out.

In spite of herself, Marin flushed and tried once more to explain. She knew it was futile, but for whatever reason, the thought of one of her idols seeing her as a thief didn’t sit well with her.

Opening her bag, she pulled out the Wind Waker and some of the flutes she'd found before with Linebeck, hoping to prove to the ghost that she was a musician too and could thus be trusted.

It would see that was the wrong move.

"Ah-ha! The thief shows her true colors! How else could you possibly have the sacred Wind Waker in your possession?!"

“No, no- I didn’t steal this either, I found it on a pirate ship-!”

“A pirate ship indeed!” Flat cut in, waving his baton in an agitated fashion, the light from the lantern wobbling dangerously back and forth. “A poorer excuse I’ve yet to encounter! Your false tales are proof of your false character! Relinquish the Wind Waker at once! Only a true musician of worthy skill and character could ever hope to use such an immensely powerful object! You are nothing more than a rat!”

Now, Marin had been teased and made fun of many times in her life; such was the fate of one with such outlandishly red hair out on Koholint Island. It was rare for her to lose her temper or to get angry over something, particularly something as petty as insults. However, nobody, not even the spirit of one of the great Composer Brothers, could get away with disdaining her proficiency as a musician.

Brows drawn, eyes flashing with sudden heat, Marin gathered herself up and stabbed a finger so forcefully at the ghost that he actually drew backward in shock even though there was no legitimate way for her to actually touch him.

“Listen,” she growled, suddenly venomous, “I am a _wonderful_ musician. Music is my life. I don’t care who you are, how dare you try to tell me that I’m not worthy?”

Flat tried to rebuttal, though admittedly he looked apprehensive; apparently, he’d forgotten he was a ghost as well.  “Any half-wit troubadour can call themselves a musician. Words mean nothing to me, girl. One cannot merely boast of their worth, one has to prove it.”

Snarling, Marin suddenly shoved her hand into her shoulder bag and snatched a flute out at random, much to Flat’s surprise. Immediately she began to play.

She was lucky that she’d grabbed a working instrument and not one of the broken ones. The tune she played was a lively one, one of the numbers that was supposed to be played that night at the National Symphony Orchestra’s performance.

Although she was only personally participating in The Ballad of the Wind-Fish, and her part was a vocal one, Marin had taken it upon herself to learn the parts of all the other songs that she enjoyed listening to. In other words, she’d learned them all.

Few people knew this, since Marin was anything but boastful, but she was something of a musical prodigy; she could play fourteen different instruments at intermediate to professional level and could play several others as long as it was just basic melodies. Her favorites included the cello, horn, bell, harp, marimba, triangle, organ, and drums.

The piece she played was hardly complicated; it was from a section of the concert that dealt with Kakariko’s legends and was a brief solo piece entitled ‘Flute Boy', referring to a local legend about a boy from the village who'd been lost and turned into a tree. It was a simple melody, but the way she played it was touchingly powerful. When she had finished, she ignored the look of stupefaction on Groose’s face and kept her challenging glare on Flat, daring him to say anything negative about her performance.

After a moment of nervously stroking his mustache, he relented, “There is no doubt that you possess some raw, technical skill-“

“Raw?!” she basically shrieked, enraged, but Flat pressed on hurriedly.

“-yet you are completely ignorant of music’s most important aspect, and still have much to learn.”

Marin could feel her eye twitching but tried to calm herself. No good artist could get by without learning to take a little criticism, and she had to remember that she was speaking to _the_ Flat. If she was patient, maybe she could learn something from him… maybe… assuming he wasn’t just being an ignorant, egotistical jerk.

“What is that supposed to mean?” she asked, in a voice that was considerably calmer than it had been moments earlier.

Flat seemed relieved that the fiery redhead had stopped shouting, and it was with the strangely lecturing tone of a teacher that he replied, “Music is magical.”

“I know!” Marin cut in fervently, bringing a passionate hand to her breast and gazing imploringly at the affronted spirit, “I feel the same! Feelings and emotions blended into melodies and harmonies in ways that can make the soul-“

“What?!” Flat interjected hastily, waving his ghostly hands as though to stem the flow of words from her mouth, “What is this drivel you’re blathering? No, you silly girl, music is _literally_ magical.”

Marin’s mouth closed with a snap.

“I… huh?”

Flat rolled his eyes, an odd sight to behold considering they were essentially made of white fire.

 “Goddesses, the youth of this generation… Open your ears. Music. Is. Magical. The land of Hyrule boasts a plethora of magical melodies upon which most of our history is founded. Music is the magic of nature, of life and death, the cycle of heavenly bodies, of existence. The very spirits themselves utilize this magic. When one learns the melody of magic, one can then begin to control or alter the very laws of nature it as one sees fit. Such was the pursuit of my life and the life of my brother. In the name and glory of our kingdom, we searched to unlock the nebulous ways of the spirits and utilize them for the safety and grandeur of our kingdom!”

“…But?” Groose asked. Marin almost jumped at the sound of his voice; she’d been so enthralled in Flat’s speech she’d forgotten he was even there.

“But.” Flat agreed, looking suddenly dour. “There was… a rift, between my brother and I. Progress was halted, and… A dark man came to steal the secrets of my research. I gave my life to guard them and keep my country safe, but it was for naught. He found another way, my country was still destroyed, and I perished in obscurity, along with all my knowledge…”

He tapered off, an odd look on his face. Marin felt her heart go out to him; to have spent his life creating music of a caliber no mortal had yet been able to make and to perish before he could share it with the world… The nightmare of any artist. 

Suddenly, Flat’s undead gaze was fixated upon Marin, his expression somewhat shrewd and considering. She found herself subconsciously straightening up.

“You there, girl. You claim that you are not a thief, that the Wind Waker found its way into your possession, and that music is your greatest passion. Is this not so?”

“Y-yes,” she said haltingly, not sure where this was going.

“I have decided to rescind my decision to take the both of your unworthy souls down to the underworld, at least momentarily,” Flat declared, once again sounding pretentious and haughty, choosing to ignore the fact that his previous attempt to destroy Groose in such a fashion had ended embarrassingly for all those involved. “If you wish to take your music beyond mortal ken and advance to the level of master, then heed my words- I, the great Flat, have a quest for you.”

Marin’s eyes had grown as wide as saucers. She could hardly believe what she was hearing. A quest, for her, from Flat the Younger?! She tried to speak but only managed a squeak, and instead chose to simply nod emphatically.

“Take the song etched upon my tombstone,” Flat intoned solemnly, floating to the side and gesturing behind him. “It is called the Sun Song; it was the first of the melodies my brother and I worked on together. Take it, and when you play it, pour every ounce of your passion for music into the melody. Play it from the heart, and play as though you’re bidding the very sun itself to heed your call.”

Marin stepped forward obediently and noticed for the first time, below the unintelligible runes etched into the stone’s face, a crudely carved musical staph and six tiny notes. Beside it was more writing.

Flat translated without needing to be asked.

“ _The rising sun will eventually set,_  
a newborn’s life will fade.   
From sun to moon, moon to sun…  
Give peaceful rest to the living dead.

 “Take this song, and head north,” Flat continued once Marin had memorized the notes. “You will find a river there. Follow it to its source, and there you will find the Master. When you find him, you will be judged, and there we will learn if you have what it takes.”

“And what if we win?” Groose cut in, looking upset about not being included in the conversation. “Do we get to keep the gauntlets?”

Flat stared at him blankly. Marin got the feeling he’d forgotten all about the gauntlets once they’d begun talking about music.

“…Yes. If you pass my trial, I shall allow you to keep the gauntlets.”

Groose punched the air in triumph. Marin shook her head, smiling to herself at his antics; she wondered if he’d forgotten that Flat couldn’t exactly take them away from him in the first place.

“Now go, young one. Stake your heart and your music to the test. The master awaits you.”

With another gust of wind, the torches extinguished and Flat was gone. Silence engulfed the tomb.

Marin cast Groose a suddenly guilty look. There she was, committing herself to some crazy adventure when their friends were in danger. For all she knew, the journey to find the master could be dangerous, and yet she’d volunteered herself and Groose without any hesitation. She ought to have had more consideration for his thoughts and desires. He probably couldn’t care less about music and just wanted to get out of here.

She said as much to him, flushing slightly and apologizing, and was surprised when he waved it off.

“Aw, it’s nuthin’," he replied, smirking mischievously. “I don’t mind tagging along. Someone’s gotta watch your back, after all. Besides, it’s not like we know where to go anyway; heading north is as good a direction as any. And I kinda wanna see what this master guy is like.”

Marin beamed, feeling immensely relieved. Secretly, she was glad he was coming along. She didn’t want to go alone.

“The question is,” Groose continued as they left the tomb and reemerged into the sunlight, “do we walk or call our friendly eagle?”

“Let’s walk,” Marin suggested, readjusting the bag on her shoulder. “He could probably use some more rest, and… well, I’m kinda sore from riding all day.”

Groose snorted playfully. “Right. Well, it couldn’t hurt to stretch our legs a bit. Ready to go?”

“So ready,” she nodded eagerly, prepared to take this step into the unknown and prove herself as a musician to the great Flat the Younger. No one could ever make her doubt herself then.

With twin smiles, the two teens set off into the wilderness.


	18. Division

“Chief Rusl Smith?”

Rusl, who’d been leaning back against his car, cold cup of coffee forgotten in hand, glanced tiredly at the approaching figures.

“Yes?” he asked, standing up straighter and setting his cup down on the car’s hood.

The man approaching was large in stature, taller than him, wearing a crisp black suit and accompanied by two other men of a similar size and dress. Judging by the nametags and general appearance, these were government men.

“My name is Eagus. We’re agents from the Federal Bureau of Investigation sent to look into the matter of the Museum of National History. Can I ask you a couple of questions about Link Hero? I understand he’s an acquaintance of yours.”

Rusl frowned. He got the feeling the man liked to hear himself talk.

“May I ask why? Shouldn’t the local authorities have shared all of their information with you?”

Eagus sighed, scratching the side of his face. “To be perfectly honest, Chief, the local authorities are a bunch of idiots. No offense meant to the boys in blue, but not all of them are as competent as your men down in Ordon. I heard about what you did last year, by the way; pretty impressive work.”

He grinned congenially at Rusl, but Rusl kept his face impassive. If this stranger was attempting to butter him up, he made two mistakes- first, never insult a police officer in his presence, even if it’s one not under his command. Second, don’t bring up the Ordon High Massacre if you weren’t there, especially not as a compliment.

Eagus looked young; he probably hadn’t held his position for very long. Still, there was no need for Rusl to be antagonistic; picking a fight with a federal agent was a good way for him to lose his job.

“Very well, Eagus. Ask away.”

“Actually, I would prefer it if we could speak more privately. I won’t take you off the site, and to be honest I can’t afford to leave anyway, but we have a van not too far away. If you would follow me?”

The expression on the two other men’s faces seemed to suggest that following him was a command, not a request. Rusl complied, leaving his coffee behind on the hood of his car. It wasn’t worth drinking anymore anyway.

The scene around the museum that morning was utter chaos. Police, federal officials, the National Guard, military personnel, and news reporters surrounded the building in two concentric circles; the outer for civilians and the inner for the men and women working the scene.

The problem was, there wasn’t really anything to do, and all the separate divisions just seemed to be tripping over one another. For the last few hours, squad cars and officers had surrounded the building, running around and barking orders, yet not a thing had actually been accomplished. The problem, of course, was the barrier.

If he hadn’t been there personally, he would never have believed it. It sounded like something straight out of a science fiction movie. An invisible, impenetrable force field, placed around the museum? How? And for what purpose? That was what the officials were struggling so desperately to figure out, as well as simultaneously trying to quell the mass panic that the media was inciting with their claims of terrorism and foreign aggression.

Rusl, however, wasn’t on the scene because of a force field. He’d come rushing to Castleton in an unofficial capacity, not as an officer of the law but as a concerned parent. Colin, his son, had gone missing the night before, along with most of his friends, and what with the anniversary of the massacre upon them, Rusl didn’t want to take any chances.

The van in question was in the museum’s main parking lot, in the section claimed by the FBI. Opening the back door, Rusl was greeted with a couple computers and some rolling chairs. With a curt nod from Eagus, the woman typing away inside hastily leaped to her feet and exited the vehicle, shooting Rusl a questioning look. Rusl ignored her and followed Eagus into the vehicle. He half expected the doors to shut behind them, but instead, the two men who'd been tailing Eagus stood outside the van and stared off into the distance, looking terribly bored.

“Sorry about this,” Eagus explained, sitting down on one of the chairs. “I know it’s a little cramped, but…”

Rusl didn’t reply. Instead, he sat down in the other open chair and stared at Eagus, waiting for him to begin.

“So…” he drawled, picking up a clipboard off of the desk and flipping through it absently, “You know Link Hero?”

“Yes.”

“Personally?”

"We've spoken on several occasions. He's friends with my son Colin."

“I see…” Eagus nodded casually. “And you’ve never noticed any violent behavior from him? Anything that may be considered radical or…”

Rusl blinked in surprise at the rapid change in tone. “What? No, never. Link is a kind, easy-going young man.”

“Right. Yet it says here that he murdered two teenagers last year-“

“In self-defense! And ‘murder’ is perhaps a bit strong, wouldn’t you say?”

“I don’t know. You say he’s a kind, easy-going kid, and yet he not only took two lives, but he and his friends managed to overthrow a group of armed assailants in their school last year using little more than staplers, potted plants, and everyday household cleaners. And you’re telling me you consider this Link character to be a kind, easy-going young man?”

He shot Rusl a penetrating look, but Rusl wasn’t playing this game.

“The events of the Ordon High Massacre aren’t on trial right now, and I don’t need to answer these questions. If this is all you asked me here for, then you’re wasting both of our time.”

“Well, now I’m not so sure of that,” Eagus replied, his voice still calm and casual. Perhaps Rusl had underestimated him. "See, this Ordon High Massacre… the first anniversary was yesterday, was it not? The same day that Link stole a priceless artifact from the museum. The same day that a good chunk of his classmates just up and vanished from their hotel, classmates who were almost all involved in the shooting. The same day that Link, our easy-going kid, broke out of custody in a police station filled with armed officers. And today, what do we find? This strange force-field erected around the very museum Link was known to have visited at least twice the day before."

“You’re telling me you think that Link is responsible for the force field around the museum?” Rusl asked, dumbfounded.

Eagus shrugged. “Honestly, right now, I don’t have a clue what to think. We’re dealing with technology we didn’t even know was possible, technology on Hyrulean soil that may be a danger to our citizens and to our nation as a whole, and the only thing I have to go on is your missing student. Tell me, Rusl, why was Link seen on camera entering an orphanage late last night where seven children have now been reported as missing?”

“I- what?”

“Why was a wolf seen escaping from Link’s interrogation room, and then again witnessed breaking into a local concert hall where the Harp of Ages was reported as having been stolen?”

“Come again?”

"And who broke into the Sacred Grove and stole the Master Sword?"

Rusl was left blinking rapidly, trying to drink in all the new information. Eagus took his silence as acquiescence to continue.

"Break-ins, theft, prison break, kidnapping, and various national treasures gone. I'm sorry, Chief Smith, but I'm going to have to ask you to come downtown with us and wait out this crisis. We have some security videos to show you and some more questions to ask. You may be able to help shed some light on this situation. The rest of the students and faculty from Ordon High are being rounded up at their hotel and brought in as we speak. You’ll be detained until we can determine whether you’re involved in today’s events or not. This is a matter of national security. Do you understand?”

Rusl found he could do little more than nod.

“I have just one more question for you…” Eagus continued, scratching absently at his chin. “Three more Ordonians are missing from their hotel… Two students named Medli and Makar, and a chaperone, the history teacher, Auru. Do you have any idea where they might be?”

Rusl blinked, then cleared his throat gruffly.

“The, ah… The teacher, Auru, was just here not too long ago. He’s a friend of mine. He had been at the police station all night, waiting to hear about Link, only to find out he’d escaped. He’s the one who initially called me. He just left maybe a half an hour ago to run an errand. I could call him if you…”

Both Rusl and Eagus turned to look out the open doors of the van. A sudden, tumultuous outcry of shouts and exclamations could be heard among the distant ring of reporters and civilians. There, racing haphazardly through the crowds of onlookers was a grey, unmarked van.

Without warning, the van slammed on breaks and slid to the side, wildly fish-tailing and coming to rest behind a crowd of reporters not too far away from Rusl and Eagus’s position. All eyes on the car, everyone reacted in surprise when the side door was flung open and an enormous dog leaped from the vehicle, sprinting straight towards the museum.

The line of reporters broke in an instant, bellowing in panic, letting the snarling beast charge through their ranks unopposed. For a moment, Rusl was speechless at the bizarreness of it all until he noticed there was something strapped to the creature’s back.

“What’s going on?” Eagus barked to the officers who were standing around, doing nothing. “Whose dog is that? Somebody, restrain it! And get the tags off that van!”

The van was already peeling out, a few police officers leaping into their vehicles to pursue, but Rusl kept his attention focused on the dog. It was massive, with fur that changed from white to grayish-brown and eyes like blue crystal. As it neared, several officers made lame attempts to seize it, but most seemed hesitant to get too close. He couldn’t blame them; it was snarling and snapping as it ran, drool dripping from its jaws. For all they knew, it was rabid.

“For the love of Farore, just grab it!” Eagus roared impotently as the canine dodged past a National Guard member, snapping at him and making him squeal and leap back. He’d managed to enter the parking lot and was sprinting pell-mell towards the museum. Now that he was closer, Rusl could see the object strapped to his back a little more clearly and felt his eyebrows rise.

It looked like… a sword?

“Sir, should we fire?” One of the strong-arms outside the van asked tersely, drawing his sidearm.

"No, no, you might hit someone, and the last thing we need is some animal rights activists coming after us for mistreating animals… Capture it if you can, or just chase it away. No doubt this is someone's idea of a prank…"

As the animal surged past, dodging another agent with an ease that was almost embarrassing, Rusl could have sworn it glanced his way. A moment later, however, it had passed them, darting straight towards the museum.

“Sir, what was that on the creature’s back?”

“I’m not sure… It looks to be heading towards the barrier.  Whatever it’s carrying, it might be dangerous. All men, on that dog!”

A circle of men had formed, weapons drawn, hastily closing in on the creature as it neared the museum. For a moment, it looked as though they’d managed to trap it between themselves and the invisible barrier that surrounded the building, and a celebratory cry was taken up by a few of the officers.

The cry was instantly cut off as the animal charged straight through the barrier without pause, passing through the invisible wall as though it were made of water, sending undulating ripples up through the air like a heatwave for a moment, before becoming invisible once more.

Stunned disbelief could be seen reflected across the faces of everyone in the vicinity, Rusl included. A few of the officers tried to follow and were immediately rebuffed by the force field.

Eagus was stuttering, dumbfounded.

“I... but… how…?”

Rusl had no answer. Beyond the barrier, the group of police, government officials, news reporters, and onlooking civilians watched in amazement as the wolf charged his way through the glass paneling on the front door of the building and slipped inside.

"Goddesses above…" Rusl whispered, astounded as the crowd of servicemen and civilians around him dissolved into chaos. "The world has gone mad…"

* * *

A harsh wind gusted over the barren landscape, kicking swirls of dirt into the air, peppering Colin’s face with tiny grains of gritty sand that stung his cheeks like needles. Squinting, he quickly lifted a hand protectively over his eyes in a futile attempt to keep the windswept dust at bay and turned gingerly to take in his new surroundings.

It almost looked like he was in a desert… Not the endless sea of burning sand kind of desert like you see on movies, more like the desolate slab of rocky land upon which nothing grew kinda desert.

The sky was overcast, the bits and pieces of it he could see that is, and the air was surprisingly cool; other than the sand occasionally blowing in his face, this new area was actually relatively comfortable. The ground beneath his feet was a reddish-brown, dark and hard-packed, and all around him, he was surrounded by towering rock formations that obscured his view of the area. Erosion, likely from wind and maybe water a long, long time ago had gouged out paths and caves and hidey-holes all throughout the rock face, and Colin felt like he was in some sort of natural maze.

Behind him, however, the landscape opened up a bit, and he could see massive rock formations out in the distance; some like small boulders, some the size of cars, some that dwarfed buildings…  Little green shrubs could be seen clinging to the shady sides of the rock face, and he thought he could see sparse trees in the distance. A canyon… That’s where he was… But where in the Hero’s story did he find himself in a canyon?

Better question- why did _Colin_ suddenly find himself in a canyon?

A wave of frustration overcame him then, and he had to clench his teeth to stop himself from cursing violently. Why in the Goddesses’ name did he willingly choose to throw himself into another one of these stupid tests?! Sure, Ralph had goaded him, but… Why did he let the other boy’s words get to him?

The delusional ginger was something of a best friend and worst enemy to Colin; he could pull Colin out of his self-loathing bubble like no other person Colin knew, but Ralph also had the uncanny ability to throw Colin headlong into ludicrous scenarios, today’s instance clearly taking the cake.

Honestly, the boy drove Colin to his limit sometimes… but his remarks to Aryll in the woods had echoed somewhere deep in Colin’s heart, and even now, regretting this decision as he did, he didn’t want to take it back. In his own misguided way, Ralph truly believed that Colin was worth more than he’d been showing that last year. Thanks to him, a new, revolutionary thought had blossomed inside of Colin’s mind- Aryll didn’t own him, she wasn’t the end-all, be-all of what he was, and Ralph had offered Colin a chance to prove that, to show her, and perhaps more importantly, himself, that he was a new man…

A test to see if he was the Hero of Time… He didn't really care about being that legendary figure of yore, to be honest, but if he could prove to himself that he was capable of something heroic, something noble, brave, then maybe he didn't need Aryll's acceptance to help him feel like he was a better person… Acceptance he wasn't likely to ever obtain if the events of last night were any indication. Maybe he'd been chasing the wrong thing all along.

Movement caught his attention in a darkened tunnel up ahead, and Colin felt his heart leap into his throat.

“You’ve got to be kidding me…” Aryll groaned when her cerulean gaze landed on the solitary boy before her, her shoulders sagging, expression hardening into a mask of disgust and disappointment. “Anyone but him… Nayru, I’d take _Linebeck_ over him…”

Like a knife straight to the heart… but he shrugged it off, with difficulty. He was an old pro at that now.

Still, he couldn’t help but echo her sentiments. Sure, he wanted to be with her more than anything, but after his colossal screw-up in the woods earlier he was content to sulk away with his tail between his legs and tend to his wounded pride. Seeing her there before him unexpectedly sent a tangle of emotions writhing through him like vines tearing through an old brick wall- elation, trepidation, distress, guilt, shame, all the usuals… and a surprising spurt of white-hot anger. That emotion was new, and it only flared hotter when she scoffed and turned away. He tried his best to shake that off, too.

Jogging casually forwards Colin went to meet her, careful to keep his expression neutral and try to appear as confident and competent as possible.

“Have you seen any of the others?” he asked as he drew near, keeping his eyes locked on hers.

She rolled her eyes and leaned against her hammer. “No, of course not. That masked creep said he was going to separate us, remember? Ralph and Linebeck are probably somewhere else entirely.”

Colin nodded, looking away from her and taking in his surroundings in a faux-casual manner. Right, of course, he’d forgotten… For a moment he wondered where they were and what they were up to, but then tossed that line of thought aside. He needed to focus on the here and now, and trust Ralph and Linebeck to take care of themselves.

“So…” Colin tried again, hesitant, “what do you think we’re supposed to do?”

“How should I know?” she shot back, tone clipped and acidic, resolutely looking anywhere but at him. The anger surged again, but he beat it back.

A familiar giggle echoed across the barren landscape, ending his tense and awkward attempt at conversation, and Colin repressed a resigned sigh. _Here it comes…_

“Aw, look at you two! The heart-breaker and the broken-hearted! I don’t think there’s a greater recipe for misery to be found than you two sad sacks!”

Great, now even the little kid with the mask was knocking his love life?! Where did it end?!

“Just tell us what we need to do so we can get out of here!” Aryll snapped, nostrils flaring.

“Well, ok… but only because you asked _so nicely._ ”

Colin could tell the masked boy’s sarcastic tone was about to make Aryll pop. He scooted away even further.

“It’s pretty simple; I promised Romeo here a Heroic weapon, and a Heroic weapon he’s going to get. I even got a little something for you, girlie, so be nice. You’ll find them nearby. As for your test, you’ve got to save someone, and… Well, I could sit here and explain it all to you, but something tells me you’ll figure it out for yourselves. Besides, you don’t have any time to talk anyway, hee hee! Your test already started! Good luck!”

A blood-curdling scream rent the air, drowning out the sound of the masked boy’s fading laughter, and Colin spun on the spot, startled.

Who had screamed? There was no one around but him and Aryll, and it can’t have been Ralph or Linebeck, the scream was too feminine. Could it have been Zelda? Midna? Were there other girls in the building with him who he didn’t know about?

The scream sounded again, this time more frantic, echoing wildly off the walls and rocks of the canyon, and Aryll quickly shouted “This way!” bolting off to the left, hammer hefted in her hands, neon-green track shoes standing out resplendently against the red dirt all around them. Colin struggled to follow, not being quite as agile as Ordon High’s little track star and acutely aware that he was weaponless and unable to help in any meaningful fashion. Regretfully, he realized that Aryll would again have to take the lead, just like she did with the spider…

Dirt crunching under their shoes, both panting heavily, the teenage duo managed to scale a hill made of rock and round a pillar-like stone structure, wind their way through a small, windy tunnel, and finally emerge on a small plateau where they found the source of the commotion.

Both Colin and Aryll came to a screeching halt, shoes skidding on the rough rock, eyes wide with disbelief as they took in the scene before them.

A hulking creature in a dark robe was stalking across the ground, dragging a massive black sword behind him, the tip scraping loudly against the blood-red stone. The sword itself was huge; the blade looked to be four or five feet long, perhaps two feet wide and an inch thick and resembled something like an obsidian meat cleaver. Red runes that glowed like coals were etched all along the sides of the weapon in a language that Colin didn’t recognize. He’d never seen anything quite like it. However, as terrifying as a blade of that size was, it couldn’t hold a candle to the creature who was wielding it.

There was no flesh on its body, just bone. A skeletal hand held the massive blade, and the creature’s skull more accurately resembled that of a ram than a person, what with the elongated face and the two curled horns that stuck out above its temples.

Oddly, the thing that unnerved Colin the most about this creature wasn’t that it was undead, nor even that it didn’t appear to have been human even in life; no, the thing he found most intimidating was its height.

The demonic swordsman must have stood something like eight or nine feet tall, and he was reedy and thin, which was to be expected of a skeleton Colin supposed. Its upper-torso bent backward as it went, swaying drunkenly as though it lacked the strength to hold its own head up. Still, even without any muscle to speak of it was holding that humongous sword…

“Colin, are you ready?” Aryll panted tersely, readying her hammer and sending him a quick, cursory glance. Colin blinked and shut his gaping mouth with a snap, mind racing to catch up with the events unfolding before them. Was he ready? Ready for what, he was weaponless. What was he supposed to do?

It was then that Colin remembered the scream that had drawn them there. His eyes traveled in the direction the monster was walking in and landed on the form of a small little girl collapsed against the rocky canyon wall, glasses askew, face chalk white, body trembling in fear.

“I’m going to distract the monster. You grab the girl and get out of here, ok? Just keep running west; if I live, we’ll rendezvous later if we can find each other, but for now, we’ve got to keep that girl safe. Ok?”

Colin’s mouth gaped like a fish. Distract the monster?! _If she lived?!_ What was she talking about?! Sure, her hammer was impressive, but fighting a giant spider you caught by surprise in the dark and fighting an undead skeletal goat swordsman in broad daylight were two very different things.

As though she could read his mind, she scowled in reproach and impatience and snarled, “We don’t have time for this, Colin! Get the girl and go! _Now!_ ”

And with a burst of speed, Aryll was off racing across the ground towards the enemy, pigtails bobbing in the wind, readying her hammer for her first strike.

By the time he reached the kid, Aryll had already engaged the skeletal monster and the two were trading blows. Aryll lacked any formal training in combat, sure, but she made up for it with her small form and agility, dodging strikes that would have easily cleaved her in two.

They were lucky that the skeletal goat demon was so slow, making all his strikes easily telegraphed. The few times she blocked a sword swing with her hammer, the magically enhanced force of the blow was usually enough to cause the blade to rebound violently and knock the skeletal monster off balance for a moment.

The girl in question couldn’t have been more than five or six. She was tall for her age, but thin, with long black hair that reached to her lower back and a pair of glasses that rested lopsided on her face. Her clothing (a dark sweater and a pair of white slacks) looked old and faded, and her shoes were falling apart.

When he drew near, she squeaked in fear and drew her knees up to her chest, throwing her arms up as if to ward off an attack. Raising his hands carefully to show he meant no harm, he hastily knelt down and panted in the gentlest voice he could muster, “Shh! Shh, it’s ok, we’re here to help! My name is Colin- here, take my hand, I’m gonna get you out of here!”

Trembling violently, her dark blue eyes searched Colin’s face for any sign of insincerity for a moment before accepting his offered hand with extreme trepidation and allowing him to pull her to her feet.

Colin went one step further and hauled the girl up into the air and onto his back. They didn’t have time for pleasantries. She gasped, fearful, but he secured his hold on her and broke off at a run before she could complain, heading towards a break in the canyon wall where they could be out of sight in a matter of moments. Hopefully, if they were lucky, once Colin and the girl were out of the way Aryll would be able to escape without getting hurt and they’d be able to meet up soon. Shame echoed in his heart with the pounding of his feet; he felt like he was running away, but he knew this was their only logical option… Goddesses, please don’t let anything happen to her…

As though reading his thoughts, the girl on his back leaned over his shoulder and called out breathlessly, “What about your friend?”

“She can take care of herself!” he stammered, ignoring the dagger that pierced his heart the words left his lips. 

Rounding the canyon wall, Colin and the girl entered a small cave-like area out of sight of Aryll and the monster. Salty sweat beading up on his face, Colin steeled himself to run as fast and as long as he could away from the battle behind him. All his determination fell to pieces, however, the moment he entered the cave and noticed what was inside.

There, in the middle of the room, sat two pedestals. Both were ringed about by red velvet partitions, the kind that separated displays back in the Museum; clearly, the objects in this cave had been directly placed here by the boy in the mask.

On one, he could see what looked to be a pair of blue boots; curious, but not what seized his attention. No, it was the other pedestal that had him slowing his run, mouth agape and heart thundering as a plethora of new options suddenly appeared before him.

It was a sword. Bright, polished steel blade, golden hilt, a stylized eye engraved on the cross-guard and a beautiful emerald encrusted into the pommel, the blade seemed to shine with an ethereal light within the shady confines of the not-quite cave.

This blade… clearly, it had been placed here by the masked boy; he had promised Colin a weapon, after all. With this sword, he wouldn't be useless anymore… He could fight. He could protect others. He could go help Aryll!

But then… Is that even what he should be doing? What was the most important thing? Saving the girl he loved or protecting the child on his back? Which task took priority? What was the right thing to do? 

He hadn’t even noticed he’d stopped moving until the girl shifted around awkwardly on his back and whispered fearfully into his ear, “Why aren’t we moving? What’s going on? What are those things?”

Colin could do little more than shake his head. What was going on? He was having an existential crisis, that’s all. Save Aryll? Save the child? Which was heroic? Were any of them heroic? What did heroism even mean, anyway? Which was the right answer? Or were any of them right at all?

Surprisingly, it was the girl on his back that made up his mind for him.

“Are you going to take that sword and save your friend?”

Colin blinked, then answered.

“What’s your name?”

“I-I… My name’s Neri…”

Crouching down, he set Neri on the floor and turned to face her. There were tear tracks down her cheeks and her body was still trembling in fits and spurts.

Smiling softly, he reached his hand up and brushed the hair out of her face and adjusted her glasses so they sat straight on the bridge of her nose. He would keep this little girl safe… but that didn’t mean he couldn’t keep Aryll safe, too. He didn’t have to choose between them when he could choose both.

“Listen, Neri… I’m going to go back outside and help my friend. You stay here in this cave where it’s safe. Don’t come out until we come to get you. If you’re in trouble, just shout and I’ll come running, ok?”

“Ok,” she sniffled, nodding and wiping absently at her nose with the sleeve of her jacket. In spite of her childish appearance, there was a clear note of maturity and understanding in her voice.

Smiling once more to reassure her, Colin stood back up and steadied himself.

This was it; a second-second-chance. He’d failed with the spider, but he’d save her here, and then together they’d save Neri. He would pass his test, and ‘Hero of Time’ or no, Aryll wouldn’t be able to deny that he had changed. More importantly, he wouldn’t be able to deny it either.

Stepping closer to the pedestal which housed his new blade, Colin cast one last confident look at Neri and said, softly, “Everything is going to be ok.”

He reached out and grasped the blade, and the world was lost to a wave of sudden, excruciating pain.

* * *

With a feral cry, Aryll whipped her hammer to the side, barely managing to block the skeletal swordsman’s blow before it removed her head from her shoulders. Magic as the hammer was, the sword was knocked clear to the side and the monster’s entire body jerked with it, nearly falling over from the sheer strength of the impact. It wasn’t enough, however; nor had it been the last six or seven times she’d managed to block his blade.

The sword, it seemed, would not leave the skeleton’s hand. No matter how hard she hit it, he kept his grip and managed to recover before her second swing could knock him to pieces like a demonic Lego creation.

Fighting this creature was exponentially more difficult that the spider had been; for one thing, the spider had basically been torn to shreds like wet bread every time her hammer had landed a blow on its hairy exoskeleton. The same could not be said for the swordsman before her. She hadn't managed to land a single blow on the thing. Even when she made an opening and brought the hammer down (literally), she'd somehow miss, or else only find cloth where there should have been bone. It almost seemed as if her weapon passed right through him like he was a ghost, but that wasn't possible… was it?

Luckily for her, the monster was slow, otherwise she’d have been dead within seconds. The weight of its butcher knife of a blade was slowing down its swings, making it easy for an inexperienced fighter like her to tell where he was going to strike and when. That didn’t make blocking his powerful blows any less terrifying, and the way the creature swayed back and forth, bending like one of those inflatable arm guys they have at used car lots, unnerved her.

Goddesses, but she couldn’t keep this up for long. She only prayed that Colin managed to get as far away as he could with that little girl before she lost the fight and the monster went after him. If there was one thing she knew she could trust Colin with, it was putting a defenseless person’s life in front of his own wants or needs.

Zelda liked to call him a chauvinist, but Aryll knew that Colin was a white knight down to the bone; his father had raised him to be that way, instilling those virtues into him at a young age to prepare him to be a perfect cop. As much as he undoubtedly wanted to stay and stupidly die at Aryll’s side, he would do whatever it took to keep that little girl safe. Aryll just had to do her part, too.

A blinding flash of light emitted from the cave that Colin and the child had fled into and a wave of dread washed over her. Had there been a problem? Was there a trap in the cave, or perhaps another monster like the one she was fighting? Had she just sent Colin to his death?

A figure burst from the cave unexpectedly, wielding a shining sword in his hand and rushing straight towards the demonic swordsman at a dead sprint, weapon held high and screaming some primal sort of battle cry, eyes wild with rage and bloodlust and insanity. For a moment, she didn’t know who it was; focused as she was on the fight in front of her, she couldn’t exactly take her time to give him a good look- over. All she knew was that he was male, he was blond, and he had a red shirt on.

A red shirt that was missing its right sleeve, just like Colin’s.

When he drew near, the boy leaped high into the air, sword swinging overhead, bringing his blade crashing down on where the monster was standing, but moments before his blow could connect the creature jumped backward, much higher than she'd thought it capable of, and literally flew away from its two adversaries, gliding gently to the floor like a specter a dozen feet away and repositioning itself. 

Grateful for the much-needed opportunity to catch her breath, Aryll still stepped away from the newcomer and eyed him warily. She recognized him in an instant, however, and felt her jaw drop.

Standing there, no more than five feet away, was a boy who was undoubtedly Colin Smith. But… when did he change his shirt? And where did he get that sword? _And where was the girl he was supposed to be protecting?!_

Outrage erupted inside of her, and half-gasping, half-screeching, she demanded, “Colin, _what are you doing here?!_ ”

Her hammer was dangling listlessly from her hand, but she swore if he gave her one line about ‘keeping her safe’ she was going to break both of his legs. Forget what she’d been thinking about his ‘White Knight’ syndrome; it wasn’t admirable at all, he was just a stray mutt who wouldn’t leave her alone!

Righting himself from his would-be heroic leap, Colin stood slowly, cast her a surprisingly dismissive glance before turning back to face the swordsman and snorting under his breath, “Tch. What do you care?”

Aryll blinked, admittedly caught off guard. Colin Smith was a lot of things; irritating, over-protective, whiny, annoying, pathetic, and the boy who broke her heart and tried to trade her life for her brother’s, but he had never, not once in her years of knowing him, been rude. A dark pall fell over her face, and she tightened her grip on her hammer.

_Oh, so he's trying a new tactic, is he? Well, let's see how indifferent he acts when I knock him flat on his face-!_

“Aryll! You’re alive!”

Before she could follow through on her murderous thoughts, a green blur came flying in from somewhere off to the side and caught her up in a bone-crushing hug, literally lifting her up into the air and swinging her around.

Disoriented, Aryll quickly shoved the new arrival off her and took several stumbling steps backward, raising her hammer defensively. However, when she got a good look at the new guy, she felt her brain cease to function. For there, standing before her in a green shirt which was also missing a sleeve, was Colin Smith.

The same Colin Smith who was also standing a little to the left, decked out in a red shirt, staring down the skeletal warrior with a glower that could have been carved from granite.

What.

"Oh Aryll, I was so worried, we thought you'd been hurt, or worse!" the green-shirted Colin gushed amiably, a bright, winning smile on his face. "We were all so concerned! Purple was about to wet himself, and Blue was convinced you'd already kicked the bucket, so Red thought we ought to come out and avenge you, but me, I just knew you'd still be alive! How could you not be, you're Aryll! You're amazing! You can do anything!"

Aryll tried to open her mouth and respond, but all she managed to say was, “Ahuh… ooeh?”

“Hey, you two,” Red Colin called from their left, turning to shoot a scathing look over his shoulder. “Will you idiots shut up for a second? I’m trying to concentrate here.”

“Sorry Red!” Green practically shouted, and Red Colin’s eye twitched.

A million questions were whirling around in Aryll’s head at that moment, but for whatever reason, she couldn’t get her mouth to cooperate and form them. Who… who were these fake-Colins? Where had the real one gone? Where had they come from, and where was the little girl?

That last question was like a splash of cold water to the face, and she somehow managed to force that particular question through the train wreck that was her mouth and out to the Green Colin.

“Huh, the little girl?” he asked, looking comically confused, head tilted to the side and face pouty before brightening up like a ten-thousand-watt bulb and pointing behind him with his sword, “Oh, you mean Neri! She’s over there with Purple. She’s keeping him safe.”

Aryll followed where Green had been pointing and felt like she’d been kicked in the gut by a horse. There, emerging from the cave into which Colin and the girl had fled were three individuals; the little girl (Neri, Green Colin had called her), and two more Colin look-alikes; a blue one, looking somber, dragging his steps, sword hanging despondently from his side, and a Purple one, clinging to Neri’s hand like a drowning man, eyes darting around frantically with all the poise of an electrified ferret.

Two more Colins… Four, all together. And each one carrying that weird golden-handled sword. The fact that Neri was with them seemed to indicate that this was, in fact, really Colin, but she still had her doubts. What had happened in that cave?!

Before she could ask, however, the demon swordsman let out a soul-chilling shriek, one that seemed to echo from the pits of the underworld itself, hefting his blade, ready to charge again. Aryll had all but forgotten he was there; apparently, he didn’t like being ignored.

“Get ready!” Red Colin bellowed, expression fierce, and Aryll hefted her hammer, feeling queasy.

Turning to Green Colin, she hurriedly blathered the most pressing question she could think to ask, “Are you really Colin?”

“I’m a part of Colin,” he answered with a reassuring grin. “We all are. When we drew the Four Sword, it split us into four; we’re all supposed to be Colin, but something went wrong… Now, we’re just representatives of the four major facets of his personality.”

“What?!”

“No more talking!” Red bellowed, swinging his sword before him flashily, a bloodthirsty grin on his face. “Let’s go kill us a monster!”

And with that, Red charged forward.

The skeletal swordsman roared and ran to meet him.

“Wait!” Aryll shouted, hurrying to catch up. “Don’t- Don’t fight him alone, you idiot! Wait for me and… the rest of you!”

But Red Colin was already engaging in the fight. To Aryll’s immense surprise, he seemed to be holding his own against the deathly monster, trading blow for blow and not giving ground.

“When did you have time to learn to fight in the last three minutes?!” Aryll shouted, frustrated, struggling to strafe the monster and perhaps land a blow on its blind spot while it was distracted.

“Oh, we didn’t,” Green Colin chirped happily, walking alongside her as if he were taking a stroll in the park. “Last year, after the shooting, dad let us enroll in a lot of personal defense courses. I mean, we already did a fair amount of gun training in our free time, but we did, like, hand to hand combat and a lot of random weapons courses that we thought were cool. Dad thought it was a waste of time, ‘cause nobody uses swords or bo staffs anymore, but mom let us keep it up for a little while because it took our minds off of you and the shooting."

Aryll blanched at how casually he mentioned their messy breakup and felt her stomach drop unpleasantly.

“So what, you’re a master swordfighter now?” she asked, trying desperately to change the subject.

“Um… no. But Red is our angry part, the part that likes fighting and stuff. He took most of it with him when we split. Not that the rest of us can’t fight, but…” he shrugged, embarrassed. “I dunno, I guess it’s not in our nature.”

“Well, a little anger may just be what we need right now…” Aryll grumbled absently, scoping the enemy, watching him swiftly block one of Red Colin’s strikes and scream in defiance to nobody in particular.

“I dunno,” Green answered, and Aryll blinked, not having realized she’d spoken out loud, “you seem to be nothing but angry recently. And Colin’s all sad. This is the first time I’ve been out in a while. Maybe you should grab the sword and we can figure out where your happiness went, too!”

Aryll decided that this conversation needed to end. Adjusting her grip on her trusty hammer, she came to the decision that if she couldn’t find an opening, she’d make one herself; and just like that, she ran forward, hammer at the ready, and swung her weapon mightily over her head.

Without warning, the monster’s image seemed to blur, and her hammer passed harmlessly through him, slamming into the rock below, fracturing the surface of the stone.

“What the-!” Aryll gasped, but before she could recover, the undead swordsman flew up into the air again, zooming off across the plateau before turning back around and swooping low, slashing his sword, dive-bombing her and the two Colin’s at her side.

“Look out!” Green yelled, but she had already thrown herself out of harm’s way and the monster zoomed past, blasting them with a gust of wind as it went.

Scrambling to her feet, she looked up just in time to see the monster bearing down on Blue Colin, who was blocking the entrance to the cave where Neri and Purple were presumably hiding.

“No, Neri!” Aryll screamed, sprinting forwards, the two Colin’s following closely behind.

At the cave entrance, the skeleton was looming over Blue, who didn’t even have his sword at the ready to defend himself. Thankfully, when he was on the ground, the monster wasn’t particularly fast, and Aryll hadn’t spent all her time on the track field for nothing. She swung her hammer sideways like a bat, expecting her blow to land on its ribcage, only to have her weapon pass straight through it once more.

“Do something, you idiot!” she shouted hastily to the Blue Colin as she rebalanced herself and attempted to ward off a returning strike from the skeleton.

“What would be the point…?” Blue sighed morosely, dropping his sword and sulking off into the cave.

“ _Are you freaking kidding me?!_ ”

Her scream was cut off by the Red Colin suddenly appearing at her side, shouldering her roughly out of the way and taking over her fight with the undead swordsman.

“Move it!” He bellowed rudely, sword glinting in the light as he deflected a strike and swung his blade harmlessly through its chest, having no more luck than she did.

Stumbling and nearly falling down, Aryll rounded on the Red Colin, flames of rage and hatred licking at her insides, only to see Red being knocked aside by a powerful blow and the monster rounding once again on her. It swung its blade horizontally and she smacked it back with her hammer like she was hitting a home-run in softball, only she overbalanced and nearly toppled over. Before she could right herself, the monster had regrouped and slashed diagonally-upwards at her face.

Terror lancing through her body like tendrils of lighting, she struggled to swing her hammer upwards to block the blow and barely managed to clip the edge of the blade with her weapon. It wasn’t enough to stop it, but she succeeded in getting the weapon to twist in its hand before it hit her. Rather than get her head cleaved in two, she was struck by the flat of the blade right on her forehead, and for a moment the world exploded into stars.

When her vision cleared, she was laying on the floor beside the cave opening, disoriented and nauseous, hot red blood dribbling down into her eye from a gash just below her hairline, effectively blinding her and blooming into an incredible goose-egg.

She moaned and struggled to sit up, but the world wouldn’t stop swaying and she immediately doubled over and vomited all over the ground. Wiping her mouth shakily with the back of her hand, she suddenly became acutely aware of the fact that her hammer was no longer in her possession.

She struggled to her feet, vision blurring, just in time to see Blue Colin knocked several feet across the floor, and Green and Red both unconscious on the ground. All that was left was Purple Colin and Neri, both of whom were cowering back away from the creature as it loomed over them, black sword lifting slowly into the air, red eyes glowing lethally in the dim light of the cave.

Purple Colin screamed in girlish terror, dropping his sword and cowering on the floor. Neri, for her part, darted away around the creature’s legs, trying to flee. The monster was too fast, however; with a flash of his sword, the rock floor beneath her was rent and she tripped and fell to the ground, glasses tumbling across the red stone.

A terrified sob issued from the little girl’s throat as she crawled forward on all fours, hands patting the ground around her blindly, searching desperately for her source of vision.

The creature towered over her, shrieking in triumphant victory, its free hand suddenly glowing with an eerie purple light. Clawlike, it lifted its arm into the air, darkness flowing into it as though all the light in the room was being extinguished, before slamming it downwards onto the little girl’s back.

The moment before he hit her, Aryll, who had been hobbling across the room as fast as she could, managed to throw herself protectively on top of her, and the blow meant for the child struck her instead.

She expected excruciating pain if not instantaneous death and experienced neither.

Instead, she felt as though she’d been plunged into a vat of icy water. Her vision went black, her skin pebbled up, and she let out a choked gasp as she felt the monster’s hand reach into her body, not through her flesh, but more like into her actual soul, grasping around at her insides for a moment before viciously ripping its hand back out.

Something snapped, and a moment later Aryll suddenly found herself devoid of the pain and nausea that had been tormenting her after her blow to the head. She also no longer felt exhausted, or hungry, or out of breath, or even the cold that had engulfed her body when the skeletal atrocity had pierced her back with its hand… In fact, she felt nothing. Nothing at all.

She could, however, see, and what she saw made her scream.

She was up in the air, several feet above the ground, and there, on the floor below her, was Neri… lying underneath Aryll’s own unmoving body.

Aryll glanced down at her hands; they were still there, only… they weren’t. They’d gone completely translucent, and she could see the red-brown rock of the cave through her flesh. What in the Goddesses’ name…?

Another cry filled the cave, this one more familiar, and she looked down just in time to see Green Colin, apparently up and moving again, stab the monster in the chest with his sword.

Miraculously, he seemed to somehow land the blow, and the skeletal swordsman bellowed in pain. It released her and swiped blindly at Green Colin, who narrowly ducked the attack, running forward and snagging Neri’s hand, pulling her free of Aryll’s corpse, hoisting her into the air and running away.

Liberated from the monster’s grasp, she flinched as she expected to fall to the floor and didn’t. Peeking one eye open, she found herself still floating in the air where the monster had released her. 

Translucent body… No feeling… Floating in the air… Her body on the ground below her… Oh, Goddesses, she couldn't be…?

The monster roared and moved as if to give chase to Green Colin and Neri, but hesitated when it noticed Aryll’s body still on the ground. Aryll shouted at him to stop, but when she moved towards him (she didn’t know how she did it; she just wanted to move and her body glided forward through the air of its own accord) she passed right through without effect.

Powerless, she watched as the nightmarish creature hefted her limp body into the air and lifted up off of the ground, flying swiftly from the cave, its black cape billowing in the wind.

“Stop! Come back!” she shouted, desperate, yet it was useless; spirit or ghost or whatever she be, she could not keep up with the creature that had stolen her body. Within moments it was out of sight, soaring beyond the clusters of rock around them.

Aryll stopped at the mouth of the cave, staring hopelessly after her escaped foe, feeling hollow. They’d lost. The monster had somehow managed to tear her soul from out of her body, and now she was reduced to the form of some impotent spirit, devoid of flesh or vessel, floating aimlessly through the world, unable to touch or react or feel anything, anything at all… Goddesses, was she dead? Is this what death was like? What was she supposed to do now?

The sound of footsteps echoed behind her, and she turned to see the four Colins and Neri reentering the cave, looking wary.

“Is it g-gone?” Purple Colin called, hiding behind the Red Colin’s back.

When no one else responded, Aryll answered, her own voice sounding oddly distant in her own ears.

“…Yeah. It took my body.”

From the look of shock that spread over everyone’s faces, they heard what she said; which meant the last question had been directed at her after all.

So they could still see and hear her… That was something, at least. But now what? Without her body, reduced to this state… Could she ever get back to normal again? Or was she doomed to live like this forever?

“Aryll…” Green said quietly, a lost look in his eyes, “I don’t… I’m sorry, I should have…”

Something about the way he was standing there, that same sad, pathetic look on his face that he’d been wearing almost perpetually since last year, sent an irrational bolt of anger through her heart. How dare he apologize for what happened to her? How dare he… Did he not realize that this was all his fault?!

“Aryll…” Purple Colin stammered, stepping closer. “Are you-?”

“I’m fine.”

“But-“

“I said I’m fine!” she shouted, gesticulating violently with her hand. Purple flinched away, as though she could have somehow struck him even if she’d wanted to. “Goddesses, you don’t stop, do you?! Why don’t you listen to me when I talk? When I tell you I’m fine, you insist on butting in! When I tell you I don’t need a hero, you come running back and get in my way anyway! When I tell you to take Neri and run, you go and screw that up too!”

“Hey now…” Green started, but Aryll had gotten herself worked up and ran him over.

“No! Thanks to you not listening to me, not only did we all almost die, again, but they almost got Neri and… look at me! Look what happened! He stole my body, Colin, my body! How does that even happen?! How can a person screw up so… colossally?!”

Blue Colin looked about ready to burst into tears. Purple was hiding, Green was looking around shiftily, and Red was glowering at her, biting his cheek as though trying to stop himself from shouting back. She didn’t care, though; if his angry side wanted a fight, then she’d give him a fight.

It wasn’t Red Colin who spoke, however, but Green.

“So what do we do now?”

“We get my body back!” she retorted.

“Will that work?” Blue asked, morose. “If we get your body back… will you be able to return to it?”

“I don’t know,” she relented tersely, “but regardless, I’m not leaving my body in the possession of that thing, so come on, we’re going after it. Are you with me or not?”

The four Colins exchanged looks. Red Colin sighed and rolled his eyes, and Green Colin turned to Aryll and nodded, looking wary.

“Good. Look, I can’t fight, so I’m going to have to rely on you. No matter what happens, do not let Neri out of your sight, alright?”

All four Colin’s nodded, and the little girl allowed a small, tremulous smile to form on her face.

“We’ll need to hurry, so someone’s going to have to carry her,” Aryll continued, and Green Colin immediately volunteered, hoisting the surprised girl onto his shoulders. Surprisingly, when she giggled, all four Colins grinned.

“Well, what are you standing around for?!” Aryll snarled impatiently, cutting the out-of-place moment of camaraderie short, feeling more and more uncomfortable at the general lack of sensation as time went on. “Let’s go!”

Without waiting for them to follow, Aryll swooped out of the cave in the direction the skeleton had gone, righteous fury burning inside of her. The sound of footsteps echoed off the canyon behind her, signifying that the Colins were indeed following, but she ignored them and focused instead on the path before her.

Her breast was heaving, despair overwhelmed her, and if she could she knew she’d be in tears, but she refused to let Colin see her face. That stupid idiot… First, he breaks her heart, then he won't leave her alone, and now he'd cost her her body too?

Why did everything awful have to happen to her?


	19. Clouded

When the darkness cleared and he could see once more, Linebeck again found himself standing alone in yet another bizarre, fantastical location. He was getting pretty sick of this if he was being honest. First it’s a boat, then some woods, and now…

…in the sky?

The wind was absolutely atrocious; howling in his ears, whipping at his lanky hair, chilling his skin through his still-sodden clothing. His eyes peeled as he braced his legs against the gale and peered about, taking in his new surroundings with no small amount of trepidation.

He was in front of another old building (y’know, because apparently crumbling old ruins were the masked kid’s favorite type of architecture) though he was clearly not in the forest anymore, which he decided he ought to at least be thankful for.

The ruin before him was enormous, roughly the size of a palace, though the stone that made the outer walls was yellowed and pitted with age, apparently heavily eroded by the vicious winds that tore across the landscape. He could see a decrepit doorway not too far away; presumably, this was where he was supposed to be heading next, a clue he gathered from the sheer lack of anywhere else to go. The ground beneath is feet was paved, but cracked in several places and little green weeds could be seen poking through everywhere.

In fact, the entire building looked as though it were losing ground to vegetation as vines and creepers stuck out of holes and fissures in the walls and floor. Little tufts of grass could be seen growing where the paving stone had all but vanished, and a few large trees populated the vicinity, each one slightly bent over from having grown up in such a windy local. Everything looked fey and foreign… If he didn’t know any better, he’d say he was in a Miyazaki film.

As he turned slowly, studying his surroundings, a sort of defeated acceptance pervading his mind, he noticed to his left what appeared to be a cliff beyond which he could see nothing but sky and, beyond that, nothing but endless valleys of massive, fluffy clouds.

His eyebrows rose in surprise. Actually, it was a pretty breathtaking sight… Y’know, if you were into that sort of thing. How high up did they have to be in order to get a view like this?

The scuffing of a shoe on pavement and a heavy sigh alerted him to the presence of another person behind him. Turning swiftly, slightly panicked, Linebeck raised his hands defensively over his face as though to ward off a blow in a boxing match, preparing for the worst…

“Sweet Goddesses of Creation!” Ralph roared theatrically, arms akimbo, gazing fervently out into the white expanse of cloud that surrounded them with a glow in his eyes that resembled religious fervor, “What a vision to behold! Such beauty, such majesty! Truly, this is the perfect location for another tale of the Hero to be born!”

Hair billowing in the wind, jacket flapping like a cape from his shoulders, the teenage male struck an impressive sight for anyone pathetic enough to be moved by scenes of adolescent hubris.

Linebeck was not such a person.

Growling, the older male stormed forward, seized Ralph by the shoulder and forcibly spun him around.

“Listen here, Ravio-“

“Ralph, actually.”

"Whatever. What in Din's name is wrong with you?! What right do you have, pulling me into another one of these psychotic death traps?! I'm too old for this! I don't give two rat's farts if you're Hero of Time or just a teenager with an enormous head, leave me out of it! I want out!”

“I didn’t ask for them to bring you in here!” he retorted hotly in his thick, ingratiating Labrynnian accent. “Heavens, as if I needed help fulfilling my heroic destiny! The Hero of Time needs no one! If you seek to blame anyone for your situation, blame the ones behind this madness. In any event, whether alone in the forest or here on my quest, you’d still be in danger, so I don’t see why you’re complaining. Or did you forget that the woods in which we waited was filled with undead skeletal warriors and arachnids the size of townhouses?”

Linebeck said nothing but kept his jaw clenched and his lips pursed.

Well, the boy had a point… the woods were hardly safe, and it's not like he knew how to get out of them and back into the actual museum anyway… Still, that didn’t mean he was happy to be thrown unceremoniously into another stupid test. The brat had a lot of gumption if he thought he could just shrug off tossing him and Pigtails back into the fray…  Speaking of which, shouldn’t the masked kid be-?

A familiar cackle echoed over the howling winds.

Yup. Here we go.

“Alright guys, are you ready?! Your second test is about to start! Inside the doors, you'll find the weapon I promised you, one worthy of the Hero of Time. I even left a little something for grandpa there, just so he wouldn't feel left out."

“What, no confusing riddle this time?” Linebeck called out snottily over the wind, a frown on his face. Being called ‘grandpa’ hadn’t settled well with him. Come on, he wasn’t _that_ old…

“Eh, I figured you didn’t need it. Besides, I already told you what you had to do- somebody’s in danger, and you have to save them. If you don’t, they die, and you lose. It’s pretty straight forward; even a couple of idiots like you two can’t get that confused. Now hurry up! Your little carrot-top is waiting for you at the top of the palace! You don’t want to be late!”

Ralph waited until the masked boy’s fading laughter was swallowed by the wind before roughly removing himself from Linebeck’s grasp.

“You heard the boy, Linebeck,” Ralph stated firmly, fixing the older male with a surprisingly cold glare. “Foolish, dangerous task or no, a person’s life is still in danger. We have a responsibility to save them, as fellow human beings. I know this task is mine, and truth be told I require no assistance and wish that you were back in the forest with Aryll. However, I cannot deny things would surely move faster if we worked as one. Will you come with me?”

Linebeck, however, wasn’t listening to Ralph’s overtly pompous speech. His gaze, unfocused as it was, lingered upwards at the top of the palace, something like guilt and worry gnawing at his insides. _‘Your little carrot-top is waiting for you at the top of the palace…’_ Could he be talking about Marin…?

Something strange stole over Linebeck, then; a foreign sort of feeling, like a dark burning in his chest.

Linebeck had been in his fair share of dangerous situations in the past, and every time he’d been filled with an abject sort of terror. ‘Courageous’ was a word that could never honestly be applied to the portly security guard, mostly because whenever dangerous situations crept up, his first and only course of action had always been to run as fast as he could in the opposite direction. Living just seemed so much more important than risking his life, regardless of the reason.

Still, he liked Red, probably more than he liked the Kid and Princess, who were pretty much the only two students at Ordon High who he didn’t detest, and this was with him having only spent a couple of hours with her.

Sure, she was flighty, a little air-headed and undoubtedly bizarre, but they’d shared a connection with their love of the sea and of times spent in Koholint, and she’d actually complimented him, making him feel… well, useful. Like he’d been an asset for once in his sorry life, and not just a waste of space. When she’d been stolen away by that monstrous bird, he’d been honestly worried about her. Could it have brought her here, to this castle in the sky? Could this be where its nest was? If so, would he be able to save her…?

Linebeck swallowed gruffly, trying to force down the lump that had appeared in his throat. He’d do it. Uncharacteristic though it may be, he would brave this stupid test and save that strange little girl. He’d never wanted children himself (not that Marin was anything like a child to him, let’s not get this twisted) largely because of what he’d been through in Labrynna; because he’d seen too many young men and women cut down before their time. If seeing complete strangers murdered before his eyes had affected him so badly, how awful would it be if it was someone he loved? If the body of that nameless man bobbing up and down in the frothing waves had been his son?

The Ordon High Massacre had, if anything, cemented this belief even more firmly inside of him, proving that not even children were safe from the madness that pervaded the world. And yet, while Linebeck had cowered within the walls of that high school, teenagers had stepped up and delivered them. Even tonight, as an insanity that belonged locked away in the fictional realms of fairytales threatened to destroy him, it was teenagers that were taking a stand and fighting for their chance at life.

Marin had fought for that chance. And this time, Linebeck would fight for her. After all, he was the adult here, he may as well start acting like it. He’d seen too many young people cut down in their prime. None of the teenagers in this deathtrap were going to suffer that fate, not this time. Linebeck may not be a hero, not by anyone’s definition of the word, but he was at least there, and he could try to keep them safe.

He hadn’t realized how long he’d been quietly thinking until Ralph suddenly took him by the shoulders and began roughly shaking him.

“Hello? Linebeck? What ails you, man?! Speak to me!”

“I- ack- don’t- STOP IT!” Linebeck bellowed, smacking Ralph’s hands off his shoulders. “Geez, runt, keep your hands off me will ya? I’m afraid I’ll catch your crazy.”

“Hmph. You’re an odd duck, Linebeck, to be sure... But what do you say? Will you aid me?”

Linebeck gave the oddly dressed red-head a look-over; hip cocked to the side, one hand on his waist, jacket flapping in the wind, boundless courage and optimism in his youthful face… All in all, Linebeck was unimpressed. Still…

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, Runt, I’ll join your fellowship,” Linebeck yawned, waving his hand absently in the air. “It’s not like I have any choice in the matter.”

“Then we’re off!” Ralph declared in triumph, spinning on the spot and all but prancing away down the pathway towards the entrance to the building like a kindergartener. Linebeck shook his head and followed, albeit more slowly. He may be turning over a new leaf, but that didn’t mean he was suddenly going to become perky and animated…

He cast one last look at the cliff behind him and the endless expanse of cloudy sky that surrounded them on all sides. A disconcerted frown etched its way across the older man’s sallow face. Linebeck knew every room in the museum, and thanks to his time spent there he knew a fair amount about the legends of the Hero. So then… Where exactly were they? What legend was this supposed to be? He didn’t remember anything about a windy mountaintop…

Ralph had already gone ahead and vanished into the building before Linebeck could walk through the doorway himself. A little irritated at the kid’s excitement, he stooped under the low entrance with a grunt and stomped into the room.

It was an antechamber of some sort and it was almost entirely barren. Dirt and weeds littered the floor, creepers growing up the sides of the walls, empty windows stared back at him like the hollow eyes of the dead, and yet the room was for all intents and purposes empty… other than two small familiar pedestals cordoned off by red partitions that he knew belonged in the museum. Ralph was kneeling on the cracked ground in front of the pedestal on the right. For a moment, Linebeck thought he’d hurt himself somehow in the five seconds that he’d been out of his sight. Then the boy spoke.

“L-look at it, Linebeck,” Ralph whispered, voice soft and uncomfortably reverent. “It’s… It’s beautiful…”

Linebeck stepped closer and examined the pedestal a little more carefully. It was made of hexagonal stone that lay flat on the ground, yet the stone didn’t match that of the building, making it evident it was not from the palace after all, just as Linebeck had thought when he’d seen it. He didn’t even need to see the blade sticking out from it to know that this pedestal, and the blade that had been housed within, had been on display within the museum. But which sword had this been…?

It was definitely different from your average medieval weapon; for one thing, the entirety of the blade was a light sapphire color, almost as if it was made of the gemstone. The hilt itself was a darker shade of blue, adorned with golden diamonds on either side of the cross-guard, a Triforce insignia in the center, and the pommel, which also bore a circular yellow diamond, was ringed all around in dark red. It almost looked like the kind of weapon you’d find in an online fantasy video game, the kind that was too ornate to function in reality.

“It’s a sword,” Linebeck replied flatly, stepping closer and scowling down at his accomplice with a mixture of disdain and impatience. “Now get off the floor, we’ve got stuff to do.”

Nodding hastily, Ralph wiped a tear from his eye and scrambled to his feet. Placing his right hand on the hilt, Ralph shot Linebeck a quick, ecstatic glance, like a child on his birthday, before yanking the blade from the pedestal and holding it high into the air.

“I shall christen this blade: Dullahan, bringer of light!” he declared in a loud, carrying voice, gazing up at the sword with a sort of fanatical reverence that made Linebeck’s skin crawl.

“Good for you, Runt,” Linebeck replied dryly, choosing not to mention that he was fairly certain that Dullahan was the name of the old headless horseman legend and had nothing to do with bringing light to anything. “Now let’s get going.”

“But wait, what about your gift?” Ralph asked hurriedly, gesturing towards the second pedestal with his blue blade.

Oh, he’d nearly forgotten about that. The second pedestal was taller than the first, roughly four feet in height, and was topped with a red velvet cushion. Resting atop it was what appeared to be an old blue rod that more resembled a ceremonial scepter of sorts. Shrugging, Linebeck quickly strode forward and hefted it into his hands with unfeigned indifference. The rod was made of cool hollow metal, and the top of the shaft held a heavy gem that might have been a sapphire.

All in all, it looked to be completely useless… unless he was going to sell it. However, he’d thought the same thing about the hourglass and the flutes Marin had found. It was probably best not to take the tools of the Hero at face value.

“Do you know what that is?” Ralph asked, taking a break from admiring his sword and firing a question at Linebeck.

“Uh, sorta,” he mumbled, a heavy frown on his face. “I want to say it’s the Ice Rod, but…”

“The Ice Rod…” Ralph breathed, making the item sound far more mystical than Linebeck had managed, “Sounds intriguing. What is the nature of this object? Is it perhaps a mace of some sort? A bludgeon?”

“No,” Linebeck stated bluntly; Din, this kid was giving him a headache. "It shoots ice, I guess.”

Ralph looked fascinated, but as cool (pun totally intended) as a magical stick that shot ice might be, Linebeck didn’t really feel like standing around and talking about it.

“Let’s just go,” Linebeck growled, hefting the rod like a cudgel and stomping towards the nearest door, Ralph following in his wake, already forgetting about Linebeck’s newest ‘treasure’ and admiring the blade in his hand once more.

The wind caught them up again the moment they exited the building, ruffling his hair, chilling his still-sodden trousers, and before Linebeck could do little more than scowl an eardrum-splitting shriek ripped through the air.

Stumbling back, startled, Linebeck cast his eyes about wildly looking for the source of the sound and found what appeared to be the silhouette of a massive bird several hundred feet above them hidden amongst the distant clouds.

“Goddesses…” Ralph gasped, and for a moment Linebeck thought that the boy had experienced his first sane emotion, fear, before noticing the look of delight glowing on his face. “We get to slay that?!”

Linebeck cast the younger male a disturbed look before shaking his head helplessly and muttering, “How about we just focus on getting out of here instead?”

“Righto! On with the hunt!” Ralph cried boorishly, brandishing his blade in mock-heroism and once again stomping off ahead.

_Sweet Nayru,_ Linebeck groaned internally, _what did I do to deserve this?_

The palace beyond the first room was an interesting sight. Everywhere he looked, the desiccated remains of ballrooms and hallways, balconies and courtyards could be seen, half caved in, the other half consumed by nature. Fields of surprisingly lush grass swayed in the harsh breeze, populated by boulders and broken sidewalks, and several tall trees had grown up through the fissures in the pavement; strong roots furthering the destruction of the architecture while lightly colored trunks grew crookedly, no doubt influenced by the constant gale that ravaged their homes.

Tiny white and yellow flowers appeared now and again on the boughs of the trees, and the occasional dandelion or milkweed gave color to the otherwise distinctly grey-and-green surroundings, sheltered in the protection of a fallen beam or section of caved-in ceiling where the wind could not tear at them. How on earth so many plants had managed to grow on top of such a tall mountain he didn’t know; he was no expert in botany. At least they made the place feel a little less creepy. Everything here was bright and sunny, unlike the forest where he’d washed up earlier. The pillowy clouds helped too, comforting him like a warm blanket for his soul...

“Where do you think our foe has flown off to?” Ralph asked suddenly, breaking through Linebeck’s silent reverie.

“Huh? Oh… dunno. Far away, I hope,” Linebeck grunted, casting an uneasy look up into the sky. Seeing the bird had only confirmed his theory that Marin was here, somewhere, and that they were here to find her. However, having seen the massive avian monstrosity first hand, he had no personal desire to actually fight it.

Ralph sent Linebeck a long-suffering look, and the janitor tried to brace himself; he knew that look all too well. The boy was gearing himself up for some sanctimonious preaching.

“Linebeck, my dear man! What has become of your adventurous spirit? Look around you! You can feel it in the breeze, in the ground beneath our feet- heroism awaits us! How many magical worlds have you seen today? How many impossible wonders have you witnessed? Yet still you persist in displaying this tone of perpetual acidity- I must admit, it boggles the mind! How is it that a man so young has grown so old in his heart?”

A spark of rare, black anger flared up unexpectedly and before he knew what he was doing he spun around, jabbing a finger roughly in Ralph’s direction.

“Listen, Runt,” he snarled with unexpected bite, and Ralph took a surprised step backward, "I didn't ask to be here. I never wanted any of this, I'm no hero and I don't pretend to be one. You want to know what's wrong with me?! I'm stuck in yet another impossible death trap surrounded by teenagers who I don't particularly like, and worst of all, I suddenly find myself paired up with you. Goddesses, I didn't know it was possible for a kid to be this annoying. I don't know what's worse- your stupid attitude, your idiotic ‘quest’, or your voice- Din, did it have to be a Labrynnian?!”

The young man blinked, looking suddenly guarded.

“Do you… have some qualm with Labrynnians?”

“Do I…?! Do you have any idea what I went through trying to stop your stupid countrymen from killing each other?!” Linebeck bellowed, beside himself. “You want to know why I’m so bitter all the time?! You couldn’t even begin to understand! All you do is talk about finding glory or honor by risking your life and killing things, but you haven’t got a clue!

“You know what happens to people who run off seeking glory? They die, kid. There’s no glory in battle, there’s no honor in death, there’s just silence, and if you somehow make it out alive then the only thing you have to comfort you are the screams of the fallen that echo in your dreams at night. But you Labrynnians don’t understand that, do you?  No, who cares what the price is or who has to pay it as long as you pursue your idealistic dreams! I’m sick of you! I’m sick of your people! Why won’t you let me be?!”

The cry of the massive bird sounded again over the broken ramparts, followed by a massive crash that might have been the creature landing on something nearby, though Linebeck couldn’t see it.

That didn’t stop him from experiencing the effects, however; the building rocked, the walls trembled, and the floor tile beneath Linebeck’s shoe gave away unexpectedly.

“No!” Ralph bellowed, hand outstretched, terror and shock in his youthful eyes, and time seemed to slow for a moment as the two males desperately reached for each other, fingers only centimeters apart…

And then Linebeck was falling, tumbling through the open air, scream lost to the wind, limbs flailing impotently against the all-powerful tug of gravity. For one moment, he thought for sure his cowardly life had finally come to an end…

All at once, he slammed into the ground, wind driven ferociously from his lungs, and for a wild moment, all he could think of was that he was certain that he’d fractured a collarbone. Pushing himself awkwardly upright, disoriented and oxygen-deprived, pain lancing explosively throughout his shoulder, he was surprised to see the Ice Rod still clutched tightly in his hand.

Well, what do you know… miracles do happen. He spat some blood out of his mouth and turned, eyes slightly unfocused, to see where he had landed.

It was a platform, perhaps five feet in diameter, made up of similar paving stones to the ones he’d been walking on before, as though it had once belonged to a room of the palace but the room had long since crumbled away to nothingness. The only thing that kept this section of the floor in place was a rather large, sturdy-looking vine that hung down from the palace above to which the floor tile was attached.

He let his eyes rake the bottom of the building above, noticing a hole in the floor near where the building and the vine connected and another hole maybe twenty feet away, more than likely the place he had fallen from. There were several dozen other vines dangling into the open air around him of various different sizes, all of which extended down from the mass of stone and dirt and mortar that was the palace above, but few other platforms could be seen. He hit the only one nearby. Luck had saved his life. Pure, dumb, impossible luck…

But how was he to get back up?

Bracing himself against the vine, he gathered up as much air as he could hold in his lungs and called out for Ralph. His voice proved to be too weak, but even if it wasn’t, with the wind and the distance, he doubted the boy would’ve been able to hear him.

Or would have wanted to hear him. After blowing up on the runt like he had, Linebeck was fairly certain the boy had continued on, grateful to be rid of him. Not that he could blame the kid…

Another shriek rent the air, this one sounding remarkably closer, and Linebeck cast his eyes about warily, worried that the bird was nearby and waiting to pluck him off the vine and eat him like a grape. He didn't see it anywhere in the sea of clouds around him, but that didn't mean it wasn't hiding beyond sight behind one of the walls of the palace. He needed to climb up this vine quickly and reenter the building, then find Ralph and Marin and get out of there and back to the mountainside. From there, hopefully, they'd find their way back to the museum, and then…

As he readied himself for the climb, arm still throbbing, stuffing the rod into his belt loop and trusting the thick sphere on the end to stop it from slipping out, he placed his hands on the vine, climbed one step up, and stopped, frowning.

Something wasn't right. He'd fallen out of the bottom of the building and landed on a hunk of broken tile attached to a vine that dangled underneath it. So then, if he was dangling from the bottom of the building…

…Where was the mountain?

Heart thundering in his chest, he slowly craned his head from side to side, worried that the wind would prove stronger than his grip and tear him from his plant-ladder, and felt his stomach drop out.

There was no mountain. Not on either side, not behind him, not in front, not below… There was nothing, nothing but an endless sea of clouds and open air. The only thing to be seen for miles in any direction was the palace that loomed above him. And that meant… the cliff he’d thought he’d appeared on, back where he and Ralph had heard the masked boy’s latest taunt, was not on the top of a windy mountain like he’d assumed, but rather on the edge of the palace…

The palace that was flying through the air.

The overwhelming urge to vomit suddenly seized him, but he shook it off violently, steeling his nerves. He’d seen no end of bizarre things today; blue bears, magic suits of armor, robot skeleton pirate captains… A flying castle wasn’t all that farfetched.

Climbing the vine proved to be a more physically demanding task than he had anticipated. Sure, he had some experience in the matter; in his youth, he'd climbed the riggings of old-fashioned sailing vessels countless times, even during storms, but those were usually tethered to the boat. The vine, thick as it was, dangled in mid-air, and while his weight alone wasn’t enough to move it (thankfully), the wind was, and he found himself swaying nauseatingly from side to side as the winds grew or died down periodically.

An uncertain amount of time later, Linebeck arrived at the base of the vine and pulled himself back into the building with trembling limbs. He crawled just far enough away from the hole in the floor to feel safe before collapsing on the ground and panting face-first into the dusty floor. Goddesses, this day was a nightmare… running, climbing, swimming… A veritable triathlon. He really needed to start working out again. Jolene would be delighted.

Thoughts of Jolene made him frown, and he pushed himself up off the floor, pulling the rod out of his belt and examining it critically.

Jolene… Gods, what was she doing right now? Probably worrying about him. Or hoping he died, one of the two. She was a strange woman; fierce like a jungle cat whenever she felt crossed, she was also capable of showing fanatical devotion to the strangest of things and, despite the number of times she’d criticized or belittled him or genuinely terrified him over the past year, she’d never tried to leave him.

Some nights, when he was alone in the security booth and couldn’t find sleep, he’d find himself wondering why…  Why would she bother with a guy like him? A coward and a loser at a dead-end job… Had she simply given up as he had, or did she see something of value in him? Was there anything of value in him?

He scoffed and pushed himself up and away from the wall, heading towards the opening where a door might have been once upon a time, looking out into the empty hallway, no sign of Ralph anywhere.

Deciding his only option was to follow the hallway to the end, Linebeck continued on, idly spinning the rod in his hand, letting his thoughts drift back to Jolene and their average apartment in the city.

They’d been fighting a lot recently, and part of him wondered if it would eventually lead to her wizening up and leaving him. He couldn’t bring himself to fault her for it either, there was simply a matter in which the two of them could not agree and that they both took very seriously. She wanted children; Linebeck did not. Too much had happened in his life, too much death. He didn’t want to bring a child into this world, this world of war, of school shootings, of magic… of sadness.

And yet… she kept bringing it up. She insisted that he’d make an excellent father for all the reasons he didn’t want to be. It was nonsense, of course, but though they’d bicker, and occasionally their arguments would turn fierce, he always came back to the apartment, and she’d always still be there.

Was that what love was? Or was it defeat? Was there a difference? 

This night in the museum had changed him, and not just because he’d been forced to accept that magic and legends were real. No, it had more to do with who he was as a person. He’d been forced to stop running from his fears and confront them for once in his sorry life, and though perhaps he hadn’t done the best job of it, he was at the very least trying. Maybe that moment in the shooting last year wasn’t a fluke after all.

He rounded a corner and found himself back outside again, this time on a narrow bridge that spanned a length of open space between two buildings. Walled walkways could be seen on either side perpendicular to the bridge and also connecting the two buildings, punctured occasionally with holes that might have once been neat windows; unfortunately, the walkways were a good twenty feet apart from him on either side. It almost felt like he was in a courtyard… If courtyards had bridges and no yard.

The sky was completely open above him, and over the tops of the buildings, he could see a large, spiraling tower with a flat roof. If there was anywhere for the bird to nest, it would be there… which meant that chances were good Marin could be found there as well. The only question was, how to get there…?

A cry split the air again, this time much louder and much closer than Linebeck had ever experienced it, forcing his entire body to tremble, his eardrums to pop, and his insides to quiver like jelly. It was the bird again, and he was right next to him, he had to be… But that cry was much deeper than he remembered it being…

Linebeck began desperately scanning the blanket of clouds that surrounded him, frantically searching for the source of the noise and hoping it hadn’t found him first.

It had.

All at once the figure appeared, a dark grey silhouette mostly obscured by cloud cover, swooping in around a tall tower and soaring straight towards them, wings spread wide, claws extended, long sinuous tail whipping in the breeze…

Long sinuous tail?

Terror clenched Linebeck’s heart as he realized one second too late what was happening, and he dove to the side right as the monster exploded into view, buffeting him with a typhoon of wind from its massive, scaly wings.

Linebeck nearly wet himself. This was not the bird that had kidnapped Marin… This was a dragon. A real-life, full-size, man-eating dragon. And it was looking right at him.

The creature roared once again, loud enough that he was sure his bones would shatter from the strain, and Linebeck screamed in terror, scrambling to his feet, snatching up the Ice Rod as he went.

The dragon soared wide, leaving the rooftop completely, circling around the nearby buildings as it prepared himself to pass by a second time. Linebeck's brain had completely shut down, his fight-or-flight instincts reverting to pure ‘flight' mode, searching for a place to run, a place to hide.

Too late, he remembered that he was on a bridge, only two directions available to him. If he could get back into the building he’d come from, the dragon might not be able to follow, considering its size.

Only as he turned to head in that direction, the dragon swooped overhead, knocking him to the ground with the sheer force of the wind and expelling an intense jet of flame that roasted the grass and weeds along the walkway leading back where he’d come from.

Somehow, impossibly, the flames remained on the stone walkway, burning fiercely in spite of the fact that there was scarcely enough in the way of weeds and plant life to sustain them, forcing him to clamber awkwardly back to his feet and race off in another direction.

There was nowhere to run, however; the dragon circled around in the air above him, buffeting him with every beat of its colossal wings and spewing another burst of flame along the opposite end of the bridge, blocking his escape on that end as well. Too late Linebeck realized he was being played with, much like how a cat plays with a mouse before finally eating it. In this scenario, Linebeck was the mouse; small, squeaky, and completely impotent against this much larger, much more powerful predator.

Finally, when there was nowhere else to go and either end of the bridge was aflame, Linebeck sank to his knees and waited, defeat and exhaustion wracking through his body in spasms.

With a roar that liquefied every bone in his body, the dragon slammed into the stone walkway, claws tearing through the pavement slabs like tissue paper, massive wings aloft, savage, gaping maw displaying endless rows of serrated teeth.

Limbs like jelly, Linebeck was able to do little more than collapse on the ground and quiver. In a removed way, he found himself silently wondering how the bridge had not immediately given way under the scaly beast’s tremendous weight.

As it neared, smoke began trailing from the creature’s nostrils, and Linebeck quailed inside. What was he to do now? He had an ice rod that he hadn’t even tried using yet and an hourglass that sometimes could freeze time, only last time it hadn’t worked, and it wasn’t like freezing time was going to get him out of this situation anyway. What other options were there? Think, man, think! A clever adventurer would find the solution, and there had to be one- there had to be! If he was certain of anything in his life, it was that there was always a way to run away!

As the dragon reared its head back, flesh-rending jaws agape, the tell-tale glow emanating from deep within its gullet, Linebeck did the only thing he could think of and swung the rod at the dragon, praying with all his might that the Goddesses have mercy and do him a solid, just this once…

An icy wind gusted forth, piercing and cold, frost building up on the jet-black scales on the dragon’s monstrous snout in the absurd facsimile of facial hair. Shards of ice summoned forth from the ether blasted forward, straight into the monster’s gullet, killing the would-be flames and causing the creature to hack and cough.

Smoke issued from its mouth, but it was no longer able to breathe fire. The massive monster stumbled around drunkenly, shaking its head and rasping with violent frustration, trying to relieve himself of his newfound frosty burden.

While he struggled, Linebeck seized his opportunity; spinning around, Linebeck swung the rod once more towards the wall of flames that was blocking his escape from the bridge and watched in stunned disbelief as they withered and died like weeds before the onslaught of winter.

The path was clear, and he was free.

Luckily, the dragon was too distracted to see him go. Grinning to himself in triumph, fled across the bridge, into the doorway, and down a staircase, footsteps echoing loudly off the walls in his desperation to get as far away from the dragon as possible.

Well, what do you know? He’d done it. He hadn’t slain the beast, but he’d gotten away from it, which was far more than he’d been expecting. All in all, he was much better off than he had thought.

Now, all that was left was to find Ralph and Marin and get out of this place. If he could accomplish that, then he’d really be impressed. For now, however, he’d be grateful for the little victories.

Allowing himself a small, rueful smile, the humble middle-aged security guard ran on. 

* * *

Zelda lifted her arm and a compressed ball of flame zoomed swiftly across the peaceful clearing towards the unsuspecting goblin sentry, expanding suddenly into a brief yet furious explosion of flame, the roar of which completely obscuring the magical monster’s cry of pain as it was torn to pieces. The serenity of the forest was gone in an instant.

A few dozen feet to the side, its partner spun around, alarmed, and then suddenly went rigid and fell to the floor, a single arrow shaft extending outward from its neck. The attack was swift and relentless, not sparing a moment for the monsters to react. Just like that, the forest was quiet once more.

“…Is it safe to go out now?” Navi whispered hesitantly at Zelda’s side.

"Yeah kid, we're good," Sheik grunted, kicking his way through the bushes they'd been hiding behind and examining the clearing critically through his blood-red Sheikah eyes. "I don't see anything, and I don't feel anything either. All clear… Nice job with the fireball, by the way. A bit too flashy for my tastes, but effective all the same-“

"Shut up, Sheik," Zelda grumbled as she fought her way through the foliage to join him, struggling to tow Navi along behind her without letting the offending branches whip the little girl in the face. "It's not like I have a whole lot of options."

“Yeah, I know,” Sheik replied, a breathless grin behind his cowl as Zelda and Navi finally freed themselves from the leafy barricade and came to stand beside him. “I just like teasing you.”

“Are we here?” Navi asked, voice high and breathy, navy eyes peeled, periwinkle hair matted with sweat.

Zelda motioned forward blithely, too out of breath to continue the conversation.

A stone altar stood in the center of the grove before them, plain and weather-beaten, virtually indistinguishable from the Altar of Din they’d found in the mountains save for the creepers growing all around it and the mark of Farore barely visible on its face.

“Well, are you ready Zelda?” Sheik asked, panting slightly, brushing his bangs out of his eyes with a gloved hand.

Zelda nodded but didn’t move. After her experience praying at the Altar of Din, she was feeling more than a little anxious over what awaited her here. When she’d prayed to Din, she’d received a vision and spoken to a past version of herself, a princess who had been cold and calm and beautiful, full of all the resolve and maturity that she wished she could possess herself, and she had looked Zelda straight in the eye and essentially told her to give up.

Sheik cleared his throat, and Zelda snapped out of her muddled thoughts with a jerk.

“Oh… Sorry, Sheik, I’m going. I’m just… tired.”

She ran a hand through her messy hair in an attempt to soothe her jitters.

Sheik was staring at her intently.

“Do you want to take a break?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Zelda-“

"Sheik, I said I'm fine!" she snarled, instantly regretting her outburst as Navi hastily stepped away from her. Sheik, however, didn't react, his expression remaining blank and unmoving.

“…Alright,” he replied finally, stepping back and offering a hand to Navi. “Come on, kid, let’s see if we can find some water around here.”

“Ok…” she said softly, shooting Zelda a worried look before vanishing with Sheik between the trees.

Zelda sighed and closed her eyes, digging her palms into them as far as they would go.

She knew she shouldn’t have snapped at Sheik. She hadn’t told him what she’d heard at the last altar, only given him vague allusions that they were on the right track and that she was formulating a plan. He was following her right now entirely out of friendship and blind faith. He deserved to be treated better, yet… What was she supposed to tell him when she didn’t even understand it herself?

Deciding that standing around and worrying about it wasn’t going to fix anything, Zelda straightened her posture, readied the harp in her hand, and swiftly approached the altar. Kneeling before the vine encrusted stone, not sparing a thought for the stains the grass was adding to the pre-existing tears and scuffs in her pants, she took a slow, deep breath and strummed the harp.

Green light exploded from somewhere beneath her, the world was lost in a rush of wind, and she found herself once again floating in the now familiar world of cloudy nothingness.

Memories of the Altar of Din came back, and Zelda furiously steeled herself for what was to come. If that statue-faced princess came back and tried to tell her to give up again…!

Footsteps echoed through the gray nothing, a silhouette emerged between the clouds, and Zelda exhaled a small breath of relief as a new, unfamiliar girl appeared before her.

She was shorter than the last princess, shorter even then Zelda, with long platinum blonde hair and a floor-length pink dress. A golden chain fastened with a ruby hung around her forehead, framed by a few curled bangs, and her collar was laced high around her neck.

For the most part, the style of dress was very similar to the previous incarnation of herself that she had met; same golden shoulder pads, same angular Triforce-emblazoned cloth stitched to the front of her skirt, same dainty white gloves pulled up past her elbows… But the one thing that truly set this princess apart from the last was her countenance.

Rather than the stiff, emotionless visage she’d met before, this princess seemed… sad. She didn’t know if it was just in the set of her wide crystal blue eyes or the slight pout to her lips, or perhaps in the way her shoulders seemed to sag as though burdened by the weight of the world, but everything about the girl in front of her exuded an aura of melancholy.

A small smile appeared on her face, turning the corners of her lips up but not quite reaching her eyes, and the girl whispered a soft, “Hello.”

“Hi,” Zelda stammered back, feeling off-balance.

There she was, geared up for a battle of wills against an implacable adversary, and instead, she's met with this pitiable creature. This woman was tragic, not infuriating. She seemed completely devoid of Zelda's usual pluck. One wrong word and Zelda was liable to break the poor thing.

“Do you know who I am?” the girl asked, stepping closer. In spite of her appearance, her voice was steady and sure.

Zelda shrugged. “You’re me?”

The princess smiled, this time a little stronger.

“Yes. I am you from a past life. A life that you know now only in myth. I am the Princess Zelda who guided our kingdom during the days when the legend of the Hero of Time was born.”

Zelda’s jaw fell open.

“You… You’re the first Princess Zelda?!”

The Princess shook her head reverently. “No, not the first… But I am the first that history remembers. For in my life was the first time that the Hero drew the Blade of Evil’s Bane from its pedestal since its forging, the first time that the King of Evil made a move against our people. The first time that the Triforce of Wisdom bestowed itself upon us.”

“You…” Zelda whispered, suddenly awestruck. This woman, this melancholy maiden before her, was the single most important woman in the history of the Hylian Alliance. A woman whose life and existence had been so thoroughly proclaimed, sung of, illustrated and extolled throughout the ages that the truth had been nearly obscured behind the fiction, and yet her name and legacy had lived on. She was literally in the presence of a legend.

“Why have you come to me, Zelda?” the princess asked, not unkindly, and Zelda fumbled for words.

“I… The Goddesses sent me. Nayru, I mean, she told me to pray at the altars and the way forward would be made clear… I didn’t know she meant me to speak to you. My friends- the country- are in danger, I’m stuck in this museum reliving the legends of the Hero, and I don’t know what’s going on or what I need to do to save everyone, and Link is… He can’t help me now, it’s all up to me. What can I do? Please… Help me. If anyone can, it’s you.”

She wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but the sad smile on her idol’s face growing ever more pronounced certainly wasn’t it.

“Tell me, Zelda… What do you know of my life?”

Zelda blinked, not understanding where this was going. “Uh… I mean, you and the Hero worked together to prevent the Evil King from destroying the country. Everybody knows the story.”

A bitter laugh tore itself from the Princess’s throat, startlingly harsh, and Zelda was surprised to see tears in her eyes.

“Is that the story they tell now? Oh, history has been kind to me indeed, far kinder than I deserve… Do you wish to know the real story of your predecessor, Zelda? The first of Destiny’s Princesses? Then listen, and take heed. “

Her expression had changed somewhat. The sadness was still there, vast like the sea, and her body trembled with the weight of it, quivering like a pack animal overburdened with its load, seconds away from collapsing, and yet the look in her eyes… It was harsh and unpitying, perfectly matching the sardonic twist of her lips and the unexpected bite in her tone.

“I was but a child when the Goddesses called me to their service, a youth barely on the cusp of womanhood, but when the Goddesses call, you much answer. I saw in a vision what the wicked Gerudo King would do to my land, and with the boundless surety and confidence that only a child could possess, I thought I knew what must be done to prevent it. I knew from my vision that a boy would come to see me, a boy from the forest, clad in green, and that he was the one I needed… And so I used him.”

Her voice cracked but she didn’t stop.

“I sent him out on a quest, a most noble and heroic quest, I assured him, to be my hand and do what must be done, to gather the keys to the Sacred Realm that we might enter it before the Gerudo King and put a stop to his plot. It all seemed so clear to me, then… So simple… And yet…”

Her voice was quivering now, but she powered on, tears leaking their way down her porcelain face.

“The Gerudo King attacked before we were ready, murdering my father and his councilors, setting the castle to flame and butchering my countrymen in droves. I fled the castle with my nursemaid, abandoning my young Hero to fulfill my plan alone. He had succeeded in collecting the keys to the Sacred Realm, and in the midst of the assault, he opened the doors in the Temple of Time to where the Blade of Evil’s Bane slept, and he drew it, thinking only of saving me…

“The Goddesses, however, had other plans. A child such as him was not ready to take on such a heavy burden. They sealed him away for years while he matured, and in those years, my country burned and my people died while I hid, unable to oppose the Evil King, unable to act…

“In our absence, the doors to the Sacred Realm were left wide open, just as we had left them, and the King used our naivety to his advantage, stealing away inside, taking the Triforce for his own… His greed overbalanced his heart and he was only able to take the Triforce of Power, but such was enough. For seven long years, he reigned unopposed over Hyrule, seven years of blackness and death and despair, until my Hero returned and was given the task to fix all the wrongs that had been committed."

She shook her head, tears falling fast and fierce now.

“Goddesses, why… The pain and the anguish my people and my Hero suffered, because of the foolish overconfidence of a child…”

“But it wasn’t your fault!” Zelda cried, the emotion her companion felt echoing through the ages and mirroring themselves in her own heart, leaving her stricken. “You were a kid, you didn’t… You were just trying to help! You can’t blame yourself for what the Gerudo King did!”

“You are kind…” The Princess replied softly, carefully wiping at her eyes with her gloved hands. “But you are wrong. When the years had passed, and the Hero and I had grown, I set him to undoing all the wrongs that I had allowed to happen, had him pay the price for my hubris, and in the end when he had saved my country, I knew what must be done… He had given everything he had for my people, and I had selfishly taken it all… So I returned him to his childhood, to give him back what I had taken, in the hopes that he might have a second chance at peace…”

The tragedy of the tale had stolen over Zelda, tears had flooded her eyes for her fallen countrymen, the pains of a life long gone, and as she wept openly, suspended in the fog, she struggled to find a way to comfort her past self, to let her know that everything turned out alright…

Only, memories of this past life had stirred memories of another, and in her mind's eye, she saw a brash pirate captain adrift on a vast sea and knew that there were no words she could offer that would comfort her. Everything had not been alright.

“Heed my words, Zelda,” the princess continued, sounding desperate and imploring, tears still tumbling out of her crystal blue eyes. “Do not make the same mistakes I did. You are wise, but wisdom comes from learning from mistakes. Do not assume that you know what is best; the Goddesses have prepared the way for us, we need only seek it out.”

Zelda blinked in confusion as sorrow from the Princess’s tale battled with her current predicament, and she realized what the Princess was implying.

Beware her pride, do not assume that she knows what was best… She was cautioning her against the path she was on, just like the last princess. Rather than become angry as she had the last time, she instead became confused, overwhelmed by the memories of her past failures and the future that stretched out before her.

“Wait… Are you saying I’m wrong? That I can’t save everyone?”

_That I need to give up?_

"Action and inaction both carry heavy prices. You need to consider which price is higher. But more importantly… Consider who will pay the price and if they're the ones who should be paying it. In my life, I thought to let another pay that price and regretted it. In the end, I gave up everything I ever wanted trying to pay it back, only to fall short. Don’t let that happen to you. Don’t…”

The fog was thickening, obscuring the tear-stained smile of Hyrule’s most famous Princess until she vanished once again into memory, and sooner than Zelda would have liked she found herself kneeling before the Altar of Farore, arm outstretched, tears pouring down her face, utterly lost.

What… What was going on? She was sent on a quest to save her friends, to save her country, only to be told at every turn that she was wrong. Yielding to find victory… Giving up what she wanted for the greater good… These were romantic platitudes, things you told yourself at night so you felt better about your inaction. Hokey sayings were not going to save her friends, they were in danger _now_ , and they needed help! If not her, then who?!

Her thoughts automatically shifted to Link, and she howled in frustration and slammed her fist into the grassy soil beneath her. Link wasn’t there! Link was one of the ones who needed saving! And hadn’t she just learned from a past life- getting Link to do all the dirty work wasn’t the answer! This was _her_ country, _her_ people, she would pay the price _herself_!

_But what was the price that needed paying?_

The tears were still pouring down her face thick and fast as she lowered herself into the fetal position on the grass before the altar and willed herself to calm down. Going into an emotional rage wasn’t going to help anybody, least of all herself. Maybe the message she was getting from her past lives wasn’t what she thought… The last Princess had warned her about the dangers of assuming she was correct. Maybe she should look at this from a different angle. What was it they were saying…?

Yield. Sacrifice what she wanted. That sounded like they wanted her to give up… But what was it she wanted, exactly? To save her friends, surely. To save her country. To get out of the museum. To not be a princess in a tower… To not let Link down again. To not make him do all the dirty work.

Goddesses, what she had heard just now… was that always how it went? Link always offering, she always taking, this constant cycle of suffering on his end for the better of her country? No wonder she’d been so adversely affected by the Skull Kid’s taunt in the Curator’s office. Goddesses, why did he stay with her knowing this?

Maybe… maybe he didn’t know? He never did seem to remember as clearly their past lives; he always said they were more like fuzzy surges of nostalgia than actual memories. Could it be that… he didn’t remember the things she put him through? Was his loyalty to her the same as a dog to its master, following her blindly because of instinct, because he knew nothing else?

But Zelda wasn’t like that! At least… Not now she wasn’t. She loved Link, really, truly, genuinely. There was nothing circumstantial in that, she didn’t care about what he could do for her. Just who he was, that was enough… Gods, she missed him. If he were there right now, he’d somehow know exactly what to say to untangle her thoughts and help her see clearly.

Only he wasn’t there, he was presumably locked up in some prison cell, confused and angry and completely oblivious to the dangers his friends were facing… Probably still ruminating over the fight they’d had just before he’d been arrested. Din, what had they even been fighting about? She could barely remember, it felt so long ago. Something about Marin and a date not panning out. If something were to happen to her, if the last thing she’d said to him had been some drivel about another girl…

The sound of snapping twigs and footsteps alerted her to the presence of another person in the vicinity, and Zelda shot upwards to a sitting position, hastily raising an arm, ready to lose another fireball if a goblin had thought he’d found an easy meal…

Sheik’s form broke the tree line, and she breathed a shaky sigh of relief, lowering her hand, feeling her hair curtain around her face.

“Hey, are you done yet? We found some… Zelda, are you ok?”

Zelda glanced up at her friend’s worried face in confusion before remembering the tear tracks staining her cheeks and how blotchy her face must be.

“Oh, um… Yeah, I’m fine. Don’t worry about it,” she muttered, hastily wiping at her cheeks with her sleeves, hoping her eyes weren’t too red. “What were you saying?”

“Zelda…” Sheik said intently, showing every sign of pressing the issue, when Navi stepped around behind him with a shirt full of small red berries.

“We found food!” the excitable girl cried delightedly, brandishing her spoils dramatically and carefully hobbling over to her, determined not to spill any on the floor.

“Good for you!” Zelda answered as happily as she could, conscious of how thick her voice sounded, plucking a berry out of the child’s shirt and popping it into her mouth. It was pleasantly sweet. As an afterthought, she added, “I hope these are safe.”

“They are,” Navi assured her, and Zelda decided not to question how she knew.

“There’s a river nearby if you’re thirsty,” Sheik added, sitting down beside her and giving her a stern look that very clearly said ‘and when I take you there, you have some explaining to do’.

“Thanks,” Zelda said, averting her gaze. “Maybe in a few minutes, I need to rest before we continue on.”

Sheik nodded, making himself more comfortable on the ground as Navi plopped down on Zelda’s other side, leaning up against her and spilling the berries out onto the ground so everyone could reach them. Zelda couldn’t help but stare at the girl out of the corner of her eye as they ate in silence. The princess can’t have been much older than her when she’d felt the weight of her duty press down upon her. She didn’t deserve all the guilt she felt for the way things ended up. Deep down, however, Zelda knew she still carried it. She felt it, even to this day, eating away at her.

How, then, was she supposed to make sure that this time would be different?


	20. Blind

If it wasn’t for his nose, he’d have been hopelessly lost.

Tail wagging, tongue panting, feet padding swiftly across the museum floor, Link Hero sprinted pell-mell through enemy territory, not caring one whit about the bizarre landscapes and alien sounds that surrounded him on every side. The wind that gusted through the trees tousled his fur, spurring him onward, and he leaped bodily over a fallen log, landing expertly and hurrying on, never breaking his stride.

He was a wolf on the hunt. Nothing could break his concentration.

Transforming himself into a wolf again in the backseat of Auru’s rental van sounded like the sort of thing that would be the weirdness highlight of any sane person’s life, but to him, given everything he’d been through that day, it was fairly par for the course. His history teacher’s driving had been erratic, and remaining still while Medli and Makar attempted to buckle the sheath of his legendary weapon around his torso while the van swerved violently through crowds of pedestrians had been a trial to be sure.

The moment the van had stopped, however, and the doors had been thrown wide open, he'd run for it, slipping through the crowd like a flock of frightened sheep, snarling and snapping his drooling jaws to make them panic and clear the way. The police and other surrounding militia had attempted to put a stop to him, but he’d blown passed before they’d even managed to group themselves appropriately, leaving him to pierce his enemy’s magical barrier like it was nothing more than a soap bubble and slip into the quiet museum.

His plan had been a success. Step one accomplished. Now on to step two.

…Or so he had intended.

The atrium was exactly how he had remembered it. Well, almost exactly. The large fountain displaying the Great Fairy remained unchanged, still gently spraying jets of water into the air, numerous coins sparkling in the basin. The drone of the air conditioner hummed comfortingly overhead, and before him, he could see the various entries to hallways that would lead him deeper into the museum.

He’d spared them little thought, however, because the first thing he noticed upon entering the atrium was a pile of shattered glass, a clump of half-burned blinds, and a massive, gaping hole in the wall above that lead to what looked like an office. His hackles had risen as memories of explosions and death that had marred the year before echoed through his mind, and he reminded himself what he and his friends were up against.

Finding Tatl came first. Saving his friends came next. Dealing with Ganondorf he would save for last. That being said, if he happened across any of his friends along the way to Tatl, he’d be sure to collect them, and if he met Ganondorf before all of that… so much the better.

Soft laughter had sounded behind him then, and he turned, a vicious growl forming in his throat, ready to strike at whoever was fool enough to try getting in his way, only to cut off abruptly as he recognized the figure approaching him from the shadows.

It was Mr. Happy, the museum’s curator… or so he claimed to be. He approached Link with a slow yet deliberate gait, seemingly not at all put off by the fact that there was a wolf in his atrium.

Eyes squinting, hair stiffly combed over, that omnipresent smile on his pale, round face, Link felt a familiar sense of unease come over him, the same he’d felt the previous two times the two had met.

The figure before him was an enigma if he was being truthful. The curator of the museum where everything was presumably going down, the man had been missing for hours if what Auru, Medli, and Makar had told him was true, and yet Link had run into him last night in the middle of the woods just after he’d escaped from police custody in his new shaggy four-legged body.

The man had known who Link was instantly, had mumbled off a slew of nonsensical gibberish, and then had vanished the moment Link had heard Tatl scream. He’d barely even thought about the man up until this moment… but his presence here in the museum, the moment Link managed to arrive to save his friends and confront Ganondorf, didn’t exactly bode well.  Whoever he was, friend or foe, Link had the feeling he would be finding out sooner rather than later.

Mr. Happy stopped a few feet away from Link and offered the boy a short, perfunctory bow.

“It seems your Princess had her way with my office. Fascinating that she of all people would have so little respect for personal space, but then, she always was a free spirit, no matter what shackles society imposed upon her. You would know that better than most, I think, Hero.”

In response, Link snapped his jaws and growled. He didn’t have time for pleasantries; he needed to get a move on before Ganondorf put whatever his plan was into action. If Mr. Happy had a purpose in interrupting his search, he needed to get to it fast, or Link was simply going to assume he was an enemy and be done with it.

The museum curator chuckled and shook his head.

“An enemy? I’m afraid at this point, even I don’t know where we stand, Hero. By the time this is over, you and I may yet find ourselves on very different sides of this conflict… Yet for now, it seems we are as one. We share common problems and common goals. Let that suffice for the time being.”

Link nodded, but his distrust in the man before him did not change in the slightest.

“I came to give you that which you denied in the forest… and yet I see that you are still unable to accept it from me. I think we can agree that you will require more strength than your usual form possesses, but I confess, this face you wear… It suits you, yet at present, it is merely a hindrance. Ah… but you cannot doff it on your own, can you? You seek aid. That is good. Help will always come to those who ask for it, Hero. Remember that fact. Remember it when all hope seems lost. Unfortunately, I do not possess that particular talent… I suppose this means we must part ways for the time being.”

So… Basically, all of this was a waste of time? Great. Link harrumphed impatiently, already turning to leave when Mr. Happy spoke once more.

“We shall meet again, you and I, when all is done. Until then, a parting gift…”

In the blink of an eye, he was gone. Link started, turning around, scanning the room, yet nothing moved in the dark, hollow atrium but him. He was alone. Din, how did that guy do that?!

A scent caught Link’s nose and he froze, every muscle in his body going rigid. He knew that smell… he’d know it anywhere. Dirt and the trees and sweat mixed with generic detergent and cheap shampoo, a musty bed and a cold boarding room… A familiar scowl danced before his eyes, replaced by the image of a little girl curled against his fur for warmth and finally by the sight of her vanishing into the darkness, desperately pleading for him to save her, the terror in her tear-filled eyes as she was finally swallowed by the shadows… 

Link spun without thinking, racing down one of the hallways, following the scent as if it were a lifeline and he were a drowning man lost at sea. It was Tatl. He’d found her scent, somehow, someway… Mr. Happy’s parting gift! Goddesses, he could kiss that man! Well, maybe not that… Lick him in the face? Whatever, he was grateful all the same.

_Hold on, Tatl. I’m coming._

The moment Link stepped foot into the hallway, the world changed, and before he knew it he was running along the edge of a swamp, the murky water bubbling around him, mosquitoes blanketing the air, the sound of frogs and insects echoing cacophonously through the trees. He’d have stopped and stared were it not for the scent of Tatl carrying on resolutely through the marshy landscape, and hesitating only briefly, Link followed.

He hopped on logs, leaped over boulders, dodged alligators and snakes, even trudged through the murk himself, following the scent before him dutifully, never halting or opting to find a path around if it meant losing the scent.

He wasn’t sure for how long he stayed within the stinky, humid confines of the swamp, but eventually, between one step and another, the scene changed once more and Link found himself following a riverbed. The path sloped gently upward, the sky clear and blue and warm overhead, and he seized the opportunity to leap into the river when the scent compelled him to, reveling in the opportunity to cleanse his fur of the muck of the swamp. He left the stream, padded across the gentle, sloping grass, and the scene changed again.

Which brought Link back to the present, racing around a corner of the museum. He recognized this place, having trudged these halls the day before with Marin, Medli and Makar. For a moment he thought he could smell the new girl around a bend, but he didn’t spare a thought for the distraction, pursuing Tatl’s trail with dogged determination, no pun intended.

Goddesses, what was going on here? Was this Ganondorf's doing? Had he constructed some sort of magical maze to trap him in so he could never find Tatl? If that as his goal, he was failing thanks to Link's wolf form and the scent he'd been given by Mr. Happy, but even so… It seemed a little over the top for a diversionary tactic. Where were these places he kept running through?

Link turned another corner and found himself in a castle.

This time, Link did stop, eyes wide and tongue lolling outward as he panted, slightly winded from his run, taking in the castle around him with a mixture of awe and reverence.

The building was clearly ancient if the faded walls and tattered carpets below him were anything to go by, yet their majesty had not diminished in the slightest. Massive tapestries lined the walls, displaying wealthy nobles and royalty in their finest regalia, each one with a haughty, imperial frown, though they were dusty and occasionally torn. The occasional vase or suit of armor sat stacked in a corner, giving off an air of opulence and sophistication where they were not conspicuously absent from their plinths.

A whiff of Tatl’s scent caught his nose once more, stronger now than ever, and he abandoned his observations, focusing instead on what was directly in front of him, trusting that he’d find the answers soon enough. Saving Tatl and his friends took priority over simple curiosity.

The scent trail led him through several hallways and down a few staircases, growing ever more powerful the further he went. The castle was deathly silent, not a soul in sight or hearing range, and he didn't smell the presence of any other creature that wasn't a rat or bat. He kept expecting reality to shift again whenever he rounded a corner or passed through a doorway, but it never did.

The hallway he was barreling down ended abruptly at a pair of massive, opulent doors that stood wide open, ready to receive him, and Link charged through without thought or hesitation. If there was danger, let him face it. He’d tear it down without breaking stride. He was so close now, nothing could stop him from saving Tatl. Nothing…

The scent trail came to an end and Link stopped, stunned.

…Nothing except for a stone wall.

Link stared disbelieving at the impassable obstacle before him. What was going on? He’d ran pell-mell through this psycho labyrinth of a museum, following the smell given to him by Mr. Happy with perfect precision, and nothing yet had bothered trying to get in his way. Why then did the trail stop at a wall? Where was she? Why wasn’t she here?!

“The door will not open for you as you are,” came a deep baritone voice from somewhere over his shoulder.

Link spun around, alarmed. How on earth were people still sneaking up on him?! He was a wolf, for Nayru’s sake!

Link’s cobalt eyes landed upon the owner of the voice and understanding blossomed through him almost as quickly as his surprise had.

There was one type of person who could sneak up on a wolf: the dead kind.

He wasn’t exactly sure why he was so calm, but something about the specter floating before him filled Link with a desire to stand at attention mingled with congenial familiarity rather than the abject terror that you would think being suddenly confronted with the spirit of the departed ought to give you. Had… Had he known this spirit in a past life?

He certainly looked familiar. He was tall and broad-shouldered, a stern-looking older man with a surprisingly large stature for one decked out in clothing more suited to the nobility of the age. His nose was wide and bold, his jaw square, his brow heavy, and the white hair that covered his head and face did so with a distinctive regal flare. Even without the crown on his head or the fur-lined cape about his shoulders, Link would have known he was speaking to a king simply by taking in his countenance. So then why did he look so… sad?

The ghost, translucent like moonlight, walked a few steps across the abandoned study and gave Link a slow, appraising look.

“Hello, old friend,” the man intoned gravely, offering a small, kind smile.

Awed, Link nodded in greeting, unable to answer.

“You do not know me. I suspected you might not. I am Daphnes Nohanson du Hyrule. In life, I was king of these lands. In penance for my inability to protect them, my soul has bound itself to these halls, to haunt them in solitude for the rest of time… But we are not here to reminisce about the past.”

He shook his ethereal head, turning his gaze towards the wall with the Hylian Crest emblazoned on its face. 

“No, Hero… you seek something beyond the wall of my study? You are not the first. What you see before you is not a wall, but is instead a secret chamber meant to act as a hideaway in times of political turmoil. It was built for the protection of this castle and its inhabitants, and most importantly, for my wife and daughter.

“Alas, in my life, it was never used… I thought to make the key to open it something particularly difficult to acquire, something no one of evil intent could ever obtain. Therefore, to open the door to the Royal Family’s Sanctum after it had been sealed, one must possess the traits of the Hero. That way, I knew that only one who was trustworthy could ever retrieve my daughter should the worst befall our kingdom, and thus the relic entrusted to her by the Goddesses would remain safe from evil clutches. Yet…"

The King of Hyrule turned and sent Link a morose look.

“Not long ago, a figure swathed in darkness entered this chamber and opened the door. I know not how he did it, but he yet awaits inside with a young girl. It is him whom you seek?”

Link nodded, a feral growl emanating from his throat.

The king looked away. “You cannot enter as you currently are. The spell binding the chamber prevents access to beasts. You must find a way to revert to your human form before you may proceed.”

An explosion of light heralded the entrance of Fi, who floated in the air alongside Link. Oddly enough, surrounded by two floating ethereal spirits, Link was suddenly the odd man out.

“King Daphnes,” Fi stated perfunctorily, not a shred of deference in her voice; of course, only she would speak to the King of Hyrule like he was some average Joe, “my master cannot return to his original form because he cannot draw me from my sheath without human hands. Without a strong enough source of light magic, he is trapped as a wolf.”

“Then you must seek out one who possesses such magic,” the king replied simply, and Link scowled. Oh sure, go find some great source of magic, you can probably pick one up at the Home Depot. Not exactly helpful advice. He made this sound like it was going to be easy.

As though reading his thoughts, the king continued, “If memory serves, there is a Great Fairy living nearby, sworn to aid the Royal Family in times of duress. Seek her out, and she should be able to grant your wish.”

Link nearly stumbled. A Great Fairy? That was actually a thing?

Fi turned to Link. "Master, I sense the presence of a magical entity somewhere to the northeast. Shall I guide you there?"

Oh. Well, maybe this was going to be easy. Hesitant, just knowing that something was going to go wrong, Link nodded and Fi began drifting out towards the hallway, clearly intending for Link to follow her.

“Go, Hero, and make haste,” King Daphnes intoned gravely, fixing Link with a surprisingly fatherly stare. “It does my soul well to know that I can be of some use to you. May the Goddesses see you back here swiftly.”

Nodding in thanks, Link watched as the ghost of Hyrule’s late king vanished into nothingness before turning and running off after his companion, eager to be back in his body so he could get on with his task. He gave his furry head a rueful shake; he actually thought turning back into a person was going to be difficult. It's not like there was some unwritten rule saying that everything the Hero did had to be life or death, right? The pieces were bound to fall into place sometimes.

With that naïve thought to sustain him, Link bounded off down the hall, renewed determination brimming in his chest.

* * *

“Let’s take a break.”

Without the need for further prompting, Midna collapsed flat on her butt and sprawled languidly against the cool brick wall, an overwhelming surge of gratitude towards her adolescent companion flowing through her. Goddesses, but she was exhausted… Her legs felt like jelly from all the walking she’d done today. If another monster popped up and threatened to eat them, she’d probably welcome it as long as it started on her lower limbs.

To her left, the quiet little girl they’d rescued from captivity earlier slowly lowered herself to the ground, remaining silent as ever. Almost subconsciously, Midna edged away from her.

She couldn’t say why, exactly, but something about the girl threw her off. Maybe it was how quiet she was, Midna herself being about as loud and braggadocios as a person could be. Maybe it was because of the look of perpetual obsequiousness she adopted, what with the slumped shoulders, slightly hunched and drawn in, the bowed head, the fact that she never attempted to make eye-contact.

Granted, she was wearing Kafei’s fox mask, which looked downright creepy on the girl, so it was difficult for her to make eye-contact in the first place, but… She knew it was absolutely disgusting of her to critique the poor creature on her attitude given what she’d likely been through, but Midna wasn’t a big fan of people who were so… submissive. The little girl was going to have to snap out of it sometime, but maybe she’d wait for lecturing her about her innate female warrior spirit until they were out of the pyramid.

A heavy thump sounded from upstairs somewhere, but Midna didn’t react. She knew that there were more of those large ogre-like cyclops monsters hiding inside the pyramid, but in the amount of time that she’d been stuck inside, she’d barely seen any. The only thing they’d found so far was a mirror Midna had broken and the little girl in the prison cell.

Kafei’s voice suddenly broke the silence.

“Are you absolutely certain the book doesn’t say anything about how to turn me back to normal?”

“Kafei…”

“What?!” he retorted hotly. “You try being stuck in a kid’s body!”

“Look, I already told you, the book doesn’t really tell you how to do things, it just kinda… says certain possibilities exist.”

“Well, can’t you… I dunno, just look one more time for me? It’s not like we’re doing anything right now anyway.”

Midna groaned, not wanting to sit up. “Ugh, fine… You ungrateful little… Din, it’s too dark in here to see properly.”

“Get that torch off the wall next to you,” Kafei demand-slash-suggested.

Midna turned to glance at the flaming object perched over to her left, just out of arm’s reach. Oh sure, first she has to read and now she has to stand up?

She glared at the offending object for a moment before turning to the girl sitting stiffly beside her and saying, “Hey kid, wanna grab that torch for me?”

The girl stiffened, then turned her head in Midna’s direction, still not making eye contact.

“Um… what?” she whispered, voice raspy and hoarse.

“The torch. Over your head. Stand up and give it to me.”

The girl shrank back into herself. “I… Um… I… I don’t…”

“Don’t scare the poor thing, Midna,” Kafei cut in gently, climbing to his feet and stepping around them to wrench the torch off the wall. “For all we know, she’s got some sort of aversion to fire. Besides, isn’t it kinda irresponsible to trust a child with an open flame?”

“You’re a child, aren’t you?” Midna stated bluntly, accepting the proffered torch, and Kafei smirked.

“Only on the outside. On the inside, I’m all man.”

Midna groaned loudly, drowning him out and flipping open the book in her lap, searching for the section on magic. She found it a few dozen pages back, replete with drawings of arcane symbols and diagrams that made no sense, even if she could mysteriously translate the ancient Hylian in her head.

“Nayru, how can you read that?” Kafei asked, poking his head over her shoulder.

“You can too if you if you try hard enough,” she offered blandly, not really feeling up to explaining how the whole ‘dead language translation’ thing worked, largely because she didn’t know herself and didn’t particularly care to.

She frowned; the pages weren’t offering up any further guidance into how to use magic. Midna had successfully used it before, numerous times, and she knew that it had something to do with faith and willpower… but then that was it. Nothing else was stated. The book simply behaved as though magic were an everyday part of life and took for granted that a person would know how it worked.

She glanced up at Kafei’s cape and narrowed her eyes.

“Hey, Kafei… when you use your cape, y’know, to jump high and stuff, how does it work?”

He blinked. “How does it… Well, I jump… and then it works.”

She scratched at her chin. “So you’re saying there’s no, like, requirements or anything? Like, you don’t have to feel anything in particular or…?”

“Feel anything?” he asked, half-chuckling, half-confused. “Uh, no, I don’t think so… unless feeling dashing and terribly heroic counts. Why?”

“Well,” she adjusted her position so she was sitting more comfortably against the wall, crossing her legs beneath her, “the book says that to use magic, you have to believe in it. Something like ‘faith and conviction making willpower reality’ blah blah something blah. That’s what I had to do when I used the Ocarina, or when Groose used the Giant’s Mask to push back the moon. So why is it that your cape just works as is?”

Kafei sat down beside her, a pensive look on his face. “I dunno… Do all magical items work like that? Maybe some of them are magic all the time, and some of them you have to turn on?”

Midna shrugged. "Maybe… But see, this is what I'm talking about when I say the book doesn't tell you anything useful. The only instructions it gives are those, but apparently, they only apply to me and Groose and not you. Or else, they only apply to the Ocarina and the mask, but not your cape. Why? What's the difference between the two? And what does any of that have to do with using magic without a medium?"

“A medium?”

“It’s something that’s already magical, like your cape or my Ocarina,” Midna explained, rubbing at her eyes with her free hand. “But the book clearly says that people can use magic without one if they have the ‘Talent’, whatever that means…”

“Well, ok then,” Kafei said simply, “just try to use the same kinda faith or whatever that you used with the Ocarina to make something happen.”

Midna rolled her eyes, feeling exasperated, but at Kafei's insistence, she lifted her hand, pointed it at his nose, and concentrated.

Nothing happened.

After a moment, Kafei swatted her hand away and, chuckling, asked, “So what exactly was that supposed to be?”

“I was trying to give you warts,” Midna explained evenly, plopping back against the wall with a sigh.

Kafei looked horror-struck.

“What?! But… What about my good looks?!”

“You’re a ten-year-old,” Midna deadpanned, “you don’t have good looks. Besides, it didn’t work, so there’s no point in getting all offended about it.”

Kafei still looked sullen, but he changed the subject by stating simply, “Well, I guess you don’t have the Talent then, or whatever it’s called.”

For some reason, the implication irritated her, but she bit back her retort.

Kafei’s assumption was the logical conclusion here, there was no reason to attack him for it. Still… the thought that magic existed in the world, but she was unable to use it freely, bothered her immensely. It was like being told that Hogwarts existed but you didn’t get a letter. Until she had more convincing evidence, like someone else using magic freely, she wasn’t about to give up. It wasn’t even until this moment that Midna realized just how badly she wanted to be magical. Kinda childish and silly, but…

Another boom sounded from upstairs, and the little girl on Midna’s left shifted uncomfortably.

“Maybe we should get moving again,” Kafei said quietly, casting nervous glances up and down the hallway. “We don’t want to get surprised here in the dark.”

Midna could have cried, but she bit the bullet and rose back up onto her aching feet. Goddesses, but she had a whole new level of respect for the Hero of Time. That dude walked all over Hyrule. She couldn’t even begin to imagine how much strain that must have been on his legs. He must’ve had some seriously toned calves…

Kafei led the way, as per usual, him being the only one in the group with a useable weapon. The little girl was next, shuffling awkwardly behind their leader, her head bowed, her hair swaying listlessly, not making a peep. Last but not least came Midna, who mentally cursed her shoes with every step and vowed to buy some insoles if she made it out of here alive.

She wasn’t exactly sure for how long they’d been walking. For the most part, everything looked the same; dark hallways, flickering torches, the sounds of distant monsters, and nothing. A whole lot of nothing. They’d passed a couple of rooms, always hesitant upon approaching them, always finding them mysteriously empty of people or furnishings. It was like this entire pyramid had been built just because someone wanted to build a pyramid. Nothing was in here. There was no point to its existence. So then… why was it here? And why were they?

All the while as they walked, Midna was conscious of that same, familiar nagging sensation pawing at her subconscious, the same one that had been tormenting her from the moment she arrived in this twisted world.

It was a longing, familiar and strange, calling out to her from somewhere nearby. She was certain that whatever it was, it was inside the pyramid, because as they walked around she felt its position changing in relation to her current location. At any given moment, she knew she could close her eyes and point to it. But what was it? And why did it make her feel like she needed to have it, like it needed to be in her possession at all costs?

All of a sudden, the trio rounded a corner and spotted a doorway midway down the hall. Kafei tensed, ready to spring into action and protect the ladies behind him should it become apparent that he was needed, just as he always did. Midna, on her part, also tensed… but she did so because the feeling of longing inside of her suddenly heightened tenfold. She could feel it… Whatever it was that was calling out to her… it was down there.

Clearing her throat awkwardly, Midna asked, trying her best to sound casual even as their footsteps drew them closer to the door and the desperate need to find the source of that longing was threatening to consume her, “Uh, hey Kafei… Do you, um… Do you feel anything?”

He shot her a strange look over his shoulder.

“Uh… Like what?”

Midna didn’t answer. Her mouth had gone dry and all rational thought had fled her mind. She forgot where they were or why they were even there. All she knew was that she needed to get to the source of that longing, that voice that was calling out to her. It was more important than their safety. More important even than breathing.

Before she knew what was happening, she was sprinting down the dark corridor, bag bouncing on her hip, leaving Kafei and the girl behind without a second thought.

“Midna, wait!”

She ignored him, however. Her mind was consumed, leaving nothing behind but one singular desire- to find the source of her longing. It gnawed at her, tore at her soul, befuddled her mind until any thought that what she was doing was irrational or dangerous had all but vanished completely. Torches blurred past her as she ran, heedless to any danger she might face as she flew blindly around darkened corners, footsteps echoing loudly off the oppressive walls but still not loud enough to drown out the fervent pounding of her heart.

She wasn't sure how long she ran. It felt like an eternity, and yet somehow, in the blink of an eye, she was there.

It was a large chamber, square-shaped and unadorned, much like the rest of the pyramid, yet two things stood out to her the moment she stepped into the room.

The first was the light. Overhead, the ceiling stretched far higher than in any other part of the building she'd been to thus far, and she could see two openings above her covered in a metal grating that dimly showed the lavender-colored sky outside. Below them on the floor she could see thin beams of shimmering light that glittered like diamonds, shining hauntingly up from the floor. She didn’t care for how this was possible, however; her attention was focused entirely on the raised dais in the center of the floor. 

The moment she laid eyes on it, she knew; this was the source of her longing, the reason she'd been so compelled to come sprinting to this room with no regard for her personal safety.

It was a helmet of some kind, or perhaps a mask, vaguely cylindrical in shape and crudely carved from stone. The object sat suspended in midair in the center of the room, and a dark aura seemed to pervade the air around it, drawing in what little torchlight there was to see and yet almost glowing in the darkness that enshrouded it.

Without realizing what she was doing, Midna drew closer.

The helmet, the mask, whatever, was covered in stylistic runes and symbols, some of which she was sure she’d seen before in the Book of Mudora. The top portion contained four odd protrusions that resembled blunt horns, and the top was open, like a crown. The bottom widened slightly as though to allow the object to rest on a person's shoulders, giving the impression that it was meant to be worn, even though being carved from stone as it was clearly too heavy for such a thing. The face contained only one eye, the other being mysteriously absent, and there was no mouth… What in the Goddesses’ name was this? Why did it pull at her so?

One eye… Why did that resonate within her so clearly? What did she know that had one eye?

The Sheikah Symbol had one eye… But it didn’t look anything like this one. There were no tears, no stylistic eyelashes. Still, one eye could also symbolize the Shadow. Is that what this was? A relic of the Shadow?

“Midna, wait!”

With a pop, the dull world of entrancement vanished and, blinking stupidly, Midna found herself standing directly in front of the stone helmet, one arm outstretched, centimeters away from touching it.

“What are you doing?!” Kafei hissed angrily from somewhere behind her. She could hear the sound of his bare feet stomping across the dusty floor coming toward her.

Midna retracted her hand, feeling both foolish and disappointed. Goddesses, what had come over her? It was the same thing that had happened with the mirror when she was in the desert with Groose. Only that time, she’d assumed it was because the Mirror had been calling out to her Twili heritage. This time… wait, could that be what was happening here too…?

She turned to face Kafei just as he was nearing the second half of the room, the little masked girl scurrying hastily behind him, and as she did so she remembered the odd columns of light shining upwards into the air. There on the floor, just below the grating in the ceiling, sat two piles of what looked like glittering sand shining in the light.

“I swear,” the small purple-headed boy said, voice grating in his frustration, “I expect this kind of thick-headed idiocy from Ralph, or maybe even Link, but not from you. Who goes running off by themselves in a monster-ridden pyramid without any kind of protection? Who abandons their friends when they’re supposed to be sticking together? And who goes touching random magical objects when they don’t know what they are?! Seriously, use that brain of yours! That thing could turn you into a tree, or light you on fire, or teleport you to Termina, or-!”

The realization that the shimmering piles on the floor weren’t sand but instead the broken shards of glass that had fallen through the grating when the mirror had shattered on the roof suddenly exploded through her, and her barefoot friend was about three seconds away from stepping right into one of the piles.

“Kafei stop, it’s glass!” she shouted, throwing up a hand, and for a heart-stopping moment, she thought he was going to step right into it.

Kafei froze, his bare feet inches away from laceration.

“It… what?” he asked, confused.

Midna breathed a sigh of relief… only to be overwhelmed by panic once again as the little girl hurrying behind Kafei walked right by him as if not seeing him frozen there, one foot suspended over the glass, and stepped right onto the pile.

Just like Kafei, the little girl was barefoot, so when she threw back her head and screamed in agony, Midna shouldn’t have been surprised. The scream that tore itself from the little girl’s throat, however, was not the scream of a young girl.

Standing there, stock-still, illuminated in the solitary beam of light reflecting off the shards of broken mirror like an angel, the once quiet, demure little girl let out a roar of rage and pain that was so guttural and loud it caused the walls and ceiling to shake and tremble, raining dust down upon the astounded teenagers in the room.

What in the world…?

All at once, the little girl lifted up into the air, head thrown back, arms and legs held aloft, her long brown hair billowing behind her as a fierce gale tore through the room, forcing Kafei to stumble back and Midna to fall to the ground before the pedestal and hold on for dear life.

Smoke began undulating off the little girl’s skin, tendrils drifting up from amidst her hair, and to Midna's complete and utter horror, her tiny body began to burst into flame.

“Bright!” the frail creature screamed in a rasping voice as she began convulsing in the air, flames slowly consuming her dress, limbs spasming in pain, “It’s too bright!”

“We have to help her!” Kafei shouted over the inhuman howls, but Midna couldn’t bring herself to move. The flames had covered the girl’s entire body by that point, and for a dissonant moment, she could have sworn she was back at home watching a scene from a horror movie…

All at once the screams died, the flames cut out, and Kafei’s fox mask fell to the floor with a dull clatter, the once pristine yellow face blackened and half-melted.

Collapsed on the ground, body trembling, Midna slowly drew her eyes up from the ruins of the fox mask towards the disfigured aberration floating in the air above them and screamed. 

Gone was the body of the little girl. In its place floated some sort of spectral monstrosity that almost defied description. It had no legs to speak of, and its body seemed to be made of a blood-splattered white sheet that rippled hollowly in the non-existent breeze. Where its arms should be instead extended swaths of translucent flame that undulated like tentacles and its head was like that of a red, scaly badger. Its eyes glowed yellow, though contained no pupils or irises, and as it opened its mouth to speak, she could see the interior was charcoal black.

“The light…” the fiery wraith gasped, voice like the roar of an inferno, “It’s too bright…”

“Who…” Kafei’s voice echoed across the room where he was standing, seeming so small and innocent when compared to the monster before him. “Who are you? Where’s the little girl?!”

Dark laughter echoed out of the monster’s gullet.

“Little girl?” it rasped, turning in the air to face its questioner. “There is no little girl. There never was. They told me you would come. They told me you would come to steal my treasure. Foolish children. None steals from Blind the Thief. At least, none who remain alive to tell the tale…”

And he laughed, a dark, sinister chuckle that crackled like a forest fire.

He opened his mouth wide.

“Kafei, run!” Midna screamed.

He wasn’t a moment too soon; a ball of flame the size of a basketball erupted from the monster’s mouth, careening wildly towards Kafei, a shrill keen echoing around the room.

Moments before it could strike him, he leaped out of the way, cape billowing wide open, carrying him far out of the reach of the flame. The ball exploded harmlessly against the stone flooring, blackening the ground, and the wave of heat that came surging off it Midna could feel from her position on the floor across the room.

If it wasn’t for Kafei’s cape, he’d have been a goner. The fireballs were large and fast, but Kafei was faster, and with the extra height to his jumps and his ability to glide across the air like a paper plane, he proved a versatile target, kicking off walls to change directions, using the bizarrely reflective shield he’d stolen from the goblin to deflect attacks that got too close.

After a moment, Blind decided that chasing Kafei around was getting too tiring, and he turned his attention instead on Midna.

Blanching, the miniature teen scrambled hastily on hands and knees behind the podium over which floated the strange, magical shadow relic and braced herself against the stone as she felt the impact of the fireball smashing into where she’d been sitting.

She couldn’t help the terrified scream that emitted from her throat as the red-hot tendrils of flame whizzed around her, and Blind let out a chuckle of amusement.

“Poor children,” he boomed tauntingly, his voice echoing around the battle-wracked chamber, “I may be blind, but I can still sense your presence. There is nowhere to run, nowhere to hide… It’s almost funny. They told me greed would be my undoing; today, however, it seems it will be yours- ARGH!”

In spite of her terror, Midna peeked her head around the corner in time to see Kafei zooming away, that long-handled broken blade of his held in his free hand, Blind's ethereal body writhing in pain. He must have slashed him as he flew by, nailing the monster while he was distracted taunting Midna. As she watched, the monster's sheet-like body fell to the ground, writhing in agony, and for a wild moment, she thought they'd won.

With a roar of renewed rage, Blind’s head detached itself from its sunken corpse and flew, disembodied, into the air, zooming after Kafei with impressive speed. Even as Midna watched from her hiding spot, terrified for Kafei’s safety, the discarded sheet that served as Blind’s body lifted up off the floor of its own accord, a second head emerging from the fold along the top to replace the missing one, its fiery limbs twitching in anticipation and a wicked laugh reverberated around the room.

“You thought you could beat me, child?!” the voice boomed, and a second volley of fireballs began pursuing Kafei, forcing him to give up his play at trying to strike back at Blind’s disembodied head and go straight into the evasive.

Guilt and worry nagged at Midna as she watched Kafei’s impossible aerial performance. He was surprisingly good with the cape, but the room was only so large, and he couldn’t keep this up forever. All it would take was one hit, and even if by some miracle he wasn’t charbroiled on the spot, his cape certainly would be.

If only there was something she could do… Goddesses, but she hated feeling so powerless! All she had was an Ocarina that could maybe control time and a book that told her nothing! What good would going back to when she exited the mirror do? They may be able to avoid saving the little girl, but they couldn’t get out of the pyramid with all the guards outside, and if what he said was true and he could sense them… Din blast it, think, Midna, think!

Her eyes were drawn upwards toward the strange floating helmet overhead.

There had to be a reason that Blind was protecting this thing. He said that someone had told him they’d be along to steal it, which implied that it was something she either needed or would benefit from having.

Another fiery crash and a shout of alarm from Kafei made up her mind for her. Dangerous or not, they were out of options, and so far everything she’d done had been for a reason. There had to be a reason for her being there as well.

Rising hastily to her feet, Midna climbed atop the podium and reached into the air, snagging the ancient relic out of its gravity-defying perch. At once the weight rested in her arms, but surprisingly, though it possessed the rough outer texture of stone it can’t have weighed more than a few pounds.

The moment it touched her hand, her skin pebbled and she felt something dark and familiar surge into her. This… she knew this… from somewhere…

Words seemed to whisper into her ear out of the darkness.

_Fused Shadow…_

At that moment, Kafei happened to dive by, wildly evading a shot from Blind, and the monster finally noticed Midna.

“NO!!!” he screamed, aiming his next two shots in her direction while she focused intently on the object in her hands.

“Midna, look out!”

She barely had time to look up and see the fireball about to destroy her when Kafei’s body slammed into her side, knocking them both off of the pedestal, sending the ancient Twili artifact tumbling out of her hands.

“What are you doing?!” he roared in her ear, hefting his large shield, blocking the next volley of shots.

Disoriented, Midna picked herself gingerly off the ground and cast her eyes about for the relic she’d dropped. She spotted it a few feet away.

“What did you do?!” she howled in agony, scrambling on all fours towards the Fused Shadow, now broken in four pieces on the ground.

“I saved your life!” he shouted back angrily, grunting when another ball of flame slammed against the shield. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw her fumbling with the pieces, trying desperately to fit them back together, and bellowed, “Midna, we don’t have time for this! We have to get out of here!”

“Not yet!” she cried, heartbeat erratic as she spun the pieces around in her hands. Goddesses, how did they fit?! How could they fit, she had no way to put them together, and they were way too large to fit on her head without some kind of glue or supportive resin to hold them in place… But she couldn’t leave it. She needed this thing, this Fused Shadow, and she needed it desperately. She didn’t know why, she didn’t know what it did, but she knew she _needed_ it.

“ _Midna!_ ”

“Not yet!”

“Midna, to your left!”

Midna glanced up and felt all hope die. She’d forgotten there were two Blinds now; one disembodied head, the other in all of his bed-sheeted glory. The latter remained where he was across the room, pelting Kafei with fireballs, forcing him to remain still, shield in place, guarding them both, but the second had circled around and was poised to strike.

Kafei couldn’t block them from both sides with that one shield, and even if she ran there was nowhere to go. She wasn’t as fast as Kafei, couldn’t leap as high as he could, and with two Blinds… she was guaranteed to wind up a greasy smear on the cold tile floor.

As Kafei’s shouts grew fuzzy and vacant in her ears and Blind’s mouth began to glow with the tell-tale precursor of flame, her eyes were drawn down once again to the broken Fused Shadow in her hands.

The bit she was holding had fractured in a jagged line just under the eye, leaving what almost looked like a crown with an eye patch, and two of the odd stunted horns out front. The eye seemed to be glaring at her, mocking her for her indecision, telling her that she knew what she had to do.

Wordlessly, she lifted the fragment of the Fused Shadow and set it on her head like a crown.

It was as if she’d come to life.

She remembered once in health class in middle school, watching a video of a young boy who’d been born deaf getting a specialized hearing aid implanted into his ear and watching the wonder explode across his face as he was introduced to the world of sound for the first time. An entirely new sense he hadn't ever really known existed, widening his world, changing the way he thought about everything… 

It was exactly that that Midna experienced at that moment. Only rather than sound, it was… something else…

It wasn’t sight, but it was beautiful. Not a sound, but it called to her. Not a feeling, but the sensations sent shivers up and down her spine. It was magic. And it was _wonderful._

The hunk of Fused Shadow covering her eye didn't bother her in the slightest because with or without it, she wasn't blind. She could… _see_ what was happening around her. Or perhaps it was better to say she felt it… The world around her was suddenly less-cohesive, and more like a cloth that had been woven of multicolored thread, only the thread was emotion… or was it? Was that right? Were there even words in their language to describe this?

Kafei at her side was bright, a mixture of yellow and purple, with little touches of green and blue and a core that practically glowed orange, and without knowing how she understood she was seeing what he was made of, magically. He was an amalgam, the result of the modern-day Hylian Alliance, cross-breeding between races for generations, a stain-glass window of harmony. Midna herself was violet, with drops of black here and there. Shadowfolk, through and through. No surprise.

The world itself shared these colors with her and Kafei. She couldn’t see the sky, but she felt the vast expanse above her almost exclusively white, the tendrils of yellow and blue that flittered across it, the mass of red on the horizon, the approaching purple. The ground was red and green. A swathe of blue off in the distance must be a river. Orange speckled everything, and there was this odd sort of periwinkle… What was periwinkle? Was it time?

The pyramid itself, however, was almost entirely black. She knew this color instantly, and her soul shuddered at its touch. Darkness… magic turned evil, touched by demons. The source of which she could not see, but she knew where the darkness was blackest, and he was looking right at her.

All of this happened in a moment, between the beats of her heart, but in that span of time, Midna felt like she had finally woken up.

“Midna, move!” Kafei screamed, desperation lining his voice as the ball of flame finally solidified in front of Blind’s mouth and launched in her direction.

Move? He wants me to move? Well… Alright then.

A smirk crossed her face, and she lifted her hand.

Shadows tore themselves off the walls and solidified in front of her body, turning in upon itself, opening into a hole that expanded into the nothingness…

The ball of flame zoomed into the darkness, and rematerialized on the opposite side of the room, exploding harmlessly on the far wall.

Kafei looked like he was about to wet himself.

“Cursed girl,” Blind spat, momentarily stopping his barrage against Kafei’s shield so he could turn his full attention to her. “Utilizing the magic of your ancestors… If you think to steal from Blind, you have another thing coming.”

“Oh, I don’t think stealing is your biggest problem,” Midna replied coyly.

Before he could answer, she angled her arm at the podium across the room and concentrated.

Something occurred to her as the magic forced the shadows to bend to her will. This strength… It came from her, not from the helmet. Sure, the helmet was helping, overflowing her with energy like a power cell, but the actual movement was coming from her. She’d have never noticed without the Fused Shadow, but now that she had it adding its own strength to hers, she could feel the part of her soul where her own magic was trapped, and with a strange new certainty she felt like from now on, using magic alone wasn’t going to be much of a problem.

Even so, it was a strain, far more than she had been expecting. Perhaps this sudden influx of power had made her overconfident…?

Nevertheless, it worked. The shadows bent, surrounding the podium, a muscle she didn't know she had flexed, and with a breathless roar, she tore the podium free of the ground, hefting it into the air, and slammed it into the back of Blind's head, the one that was still attached to his body.

The monster disappeared under a pile of broken brick and mortar, and the second head let out a wordless scream of rage. Panting, Midna shot Blind a triumphant smirk, fighting desperately to not let on exactly how difficult that had been. Goddesses, she needed to practice more, she felt like she was going to pass out… But forget that, how cool was she?!

“Midna…” Kafei stuttered, looking pale. “Was that… did you just…?”

"This is not over, girl!" Blind roared, and out of the rubble, his second head flew up into the air to join the first. The cloth body followed just behind, and together Midna and Kafei watched as a third head grew in its place.

“Oh great,” Kafei moaned, hefting his shield and sword but looking sickly.

Midna bit her lip and struggled to find a solution. If they kept smacking his head, he’d keep regrowing new ones like some kind of demon bedtime Hydra. They needed to end this fight swiftly and decisively before they both grew too exhausted to move on. Only, moving that pedestal had taken all that Midna had, and that had only knocked out one head temporarily. Now there were three, and she was decidedly out of pedestals. She doubted she’d be strong enough to chuck another one anyway. What she needed was more strength…

She glanced down at the remaining fragments of fused shadow on the ground.

“Now, trespassers, witness the fate of those who would steal from-!”

Wordlessly, Midna closed her eyes and summoned up the last of her energy. The three pieces of Fused Shadow lifted into the air, spinning around her for a moment like satellites as she hastily glanced them over and decided which piece went where. When she’d made up her mind she glanced upwards, made eye contact with a horrified Blind, and smirked.

The shattered fragments fit themselves around her head, interlocking like the pieces of a puzzle, and the world went dark.

The next thing she knew, Midna was laying flat on her back being gently shaken awake by a worried Kafei.

“Midna… Midna, wake up! Come on, open your eyes! Don’t make me give you mouth-to-mouth, I don’t think either of us want the nightmares.”

She complied, and frowned. Why was her vision so blurry, and…  had she gone blind in one eye?! Oh wait, she must still be wearing the top part of the Fused Shadow… OK, good. Wait, where were the other pieces? And what was she doing on the ground?

“Put your lips on me, Dotour, and I’m not responsible for what happens to you,” she mumbled, blinking blearily up at her purple-haired friend. “Besides, you only do that if someone isn’t breathing, not if they’re unconscious.”

He laughed, although his face still looked pale and gaunt. “Heh, yeah, I know. I only said that ‘cause I knew it’d get a reaction out of you. How are you feeling?”

“Nauseous,” she admitted honestly, accepting his hand and letting him pull her to a sitting position. The world seemed to spin for a moment, but she adapted fairly quickly. Gods, what was wrong with her? Why did she feel like she needed to puke?

And where…

Memories of her and Kafei’s struggle with Blind popped back into her head and she reeled back, scanning the air above her with her one free eye, wary of attack. There was no one around.

“What?” Kafei asked, alarmed, placing his hands on her shoulders to steady her and giving the room a once-over himself. “What is it?”

“Where’s Blind?”

He blinked, then sent her an odd look. “You… don’t remember?”

There was something oddly guarded about his tone. She looked at him quizzically.

“Remember what?”

He let go of her shoulders and sat back, looking hesitant.

“Well, you, uh… You put that helmet thing on and kinda went berserk…”

Midna’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“You kinda… like, grew multiple arms and turned into a giant spider octopus thing. It was weird, you were all glowy and huge, and you grabbed Blind and his extra heads and kinda… smushed him all together in your hands until he imploded, and then you screamed and the helmet fell apart and you fell on the floor, unconscious, and… that’s pretty much what happened. Do you really not remember it?”

Midna closed her gaping mouth with a snap, completely speechless. She put on the helmet and that had happened?! She turned into some strange eldritch abomination and had crushed Blind like a gnat?

…

That.

Was.

_Awesome._

The psychotic grin that worked its way across Midna’s face can’t have been reassuring for Kafei, and he leaned away from her, suddenly uneasy.

“You alright there, Mid?”

“Never better, pretty boy,” she replied cheekily, opting for a wink before remembering that her other eye was obscured behind the bizarre helmet she was wearing.

Kafei glowered at her comment but chose not to change the subject.

“So you don’t remember?”

“No, I don’t… I mean I remember putting it on, but after that, everything goes dark.”

“So what, it came from the helmet? If you put it on it turns you into a crazy alien squid thing? See, I told you it was bad news, Midna-“

“No, I don’t think that’s right,” Midna cut in, switching to a more comfortable cross-legged position and casting her eyes about the room, looking for the other fragments of the Fused Shadow. She found them lying a few feet away from her on the floor, presumably where they’d fallen after her little freak show performance and instinctively used the power of the part on her head to summon them to her.

Kafei looked like he was about to wet himself.

“How are you doing that?!”

“That’s what I was saying,” she explained, huddling the three broken fragments together on her lap and giving Kafei her full attention. "See, I don't think the Fused Shadow has an ability. It's not like your cape or the Ocarina; it doesn't have some special skill that needs to be activated or something, it's more like… a battery."

“A battery,” Kafei parroted, sounding every bit as lost as he looked.

Midna bounced her leg in agitation, not knowing quite how to explain.

"Yeah, like… See, the Book of Mudora doesn't tell you how magic works, but it tells you some things about it. It says that magic can be divided into various different categories, like… types. Or elements. Certain people can use certain types, depending on their… emotional alignment, I think. Or maybe personality is a better word.”

Kafei looked lost, but she hurried on anyway, less interested in explaining things to him and more trying to work things out for herself.

“Now, everyone can use magical items, but not everyone has the Talent to use magic by themselves - and if they do, I think they're restricted to those particular elements. When I grabbed the helmet and put it on, the residual magic trapped inside it flowed through me and woke up the magical part of me, and… I understood how magic worked. Like, I could feel it, I could see how everything in the world was made up of magic, and I used it to fight against Blind… Only, I used Shadow magic, the magic of the Shadowfolk.”

Kafei looked like that kid in algebra class who showed up the day of the review for the test but hadn’t taken any notes all semester and had no idea what was going on.

“So… Ok, so you put on the helmet and suddenly you can use magic. Alright. Cool. Whatever. Weirder things have happened today. So that’s how you picked up the pedestal and threw it across the room like a psychic?”

“I guess?” Midna offered, shrugging.

“So why didn’t you just… stop the fireballs?”

Midna blushed. “I mean, I think there are limits to what I can do with shadow magic. The fireballs were magical, but they were made of fire magic. I don’t think I can make a flame, or put one out, or control fire. I can only move it through the shadows to another place, or try to smother it, or hide it. I don’t know, I’m not an expert on this, I just started like three minutes ago, give me a break!”

“Alright, alright!” Kafei chuckled, and Midna felt her hackles lower somewhat. “So… You think you can turn me back into a person now?”

Midna bit her lip. “Um… I mean, I can try, but… I don’t know how to do that yet.”

There was silence for a moment as Kafei looked like he was trying to hide his frustration and Midna carefully avoided eye contact. Finally, after what felt like forever, Kafei relented.

“Alright… I guess that makes sense. Well, any idea about how we get out of here, oh magical one?”

Midna sighed and climbed to her feet, Kafei following.

“Not really… Though it’ll probably be easier to sneak out now that we don’t have little miss ‘rawr I’m a demon’ tagging along, and now that you’re not the only one doing all the fighting.”

“Yeah, but where do we go?” Kafei asked, sounding lost, and not for the first time her heart went out to her older friend. Stuck in a magical world in the body of a child… And she thought she had it rough.

“I don’t know,” she answered honestly. "I mean, the mirror was how I got here, it could probably get us back out, only now it's shattered all over the floor… maybe I could try to put it all back together, but…”

“What? Is that what that is?” Kafei asked, walking closer to the piles of broken glass that shimmered with reflected sunlight, shooting pillars of light towards the ceiling.

"Yeah. Right up there through the grating is where I popped into this world. The mirror broke right afterward, and I guess a bunch of pieces must've fallen through.”

“What’s all this light coming out of them?”

He bent over and snatched one of the mirror fragments off of the ground.

“Sunlight, I guess. From the real world. Or… From the desert where I was with Groose when I got sucked in. I think so, at least; Blind kept screaming about how bright it was, and it was definitely bright over there.”

Kafei was studying the piece with a heavy frown on his childish face.

“So why do you think it’s still shining with the sunlight of the desert if the mirror is broken?”

It was Midna’s turn to frown.

“I dunno, what am I, a magic mirror specialist? Why does it matter that sunlight is coming through it?”

“Because that means that the portal is still working,” he explained, sounding breathless. “We just need to find a way to make it big enough to fit through… Midna, can you pick up all the little pieces and try to fit them back together?”

“I-I mean, maybe?” she stammered, mind reeling at how impossibly difficult that sounded. There had to have been thousands of pieces of glass on the floor; how would she ever begin to know which one went where?

“No, you’re right, that’s too hard…” Kafei murmured, throwing the piece back down on the floor with the rest. He put his hands on his hips, chewed on the inside of his cheek, then spun around walking over to where he’d discarded his broken knife and the shiny shield he’d stolen from the goblins earlier on.

“What if… I bounce the refracted lights off my shield? We may not be able to put them back into a perfect mirror, but if they reflect off of another surface, then they ought to…”

Midna wasn’t exactly certain what happened. One moment, Kafei was positioning his shield over the beam of light emitted from the mirror shards, trying to angle it just right so that the light reflected off of his shield. The next moment, the light grew bright, she shielded her eyes, and the shield fell to the floor with a crash, sending mirror fragments spinning across the room.

Kafei was gone.

Midna felt like she’d been punched in the gut. It worked…? It had actually worked?! All they had to do was focus the lights off of a solid mirror to get the portal to work again?! How…?! Why…?!

Why was she still standing there?!

Lifting an arm, she seized the shield in tendrils of shadow and lifted it into the air over the light. It took her a couple of tried, but after a few seconds of harried repositioning, she got the light to reflect just right, and a portal opened up, just barely large enough for a small person to fit through.

Hastily shoving the broken fragments of Fused Shadow into her monster-faced shoulder bag, Midna stepped into the light and felt herself being torn apart on a molecular level and sucked into the void.

The world was swallowed in light.

A moment later her feet hit the ground and Midna stumbled forward, arms wind-milling dramatically as she tried to keep her balance and failed, falling flat on her face.

“Graceful,” a familiar voice snorted, and she looked up to see Kafei towering over her, a sarcastic grin on her face.

“Shut up, moron,” she grumbled, smacking his proffered hand out of the way and helping herself to her feet.

"Well, that won't do. How about, ‘thanks for figuring out how to get us out of that crazy pyramid, Kafei! I'd be so lost without you and your hunkiness!’”

“First of all,” Midna said sternly, shoving her finger into Kafei’s face authoritatively, “you’re not a hunk. Second, that plan was stupid and I have no idea how it worked, you just got lucky. Third… where are we?”

Blinking, Kafei glanced around him in confusion for a moment before realizing what Midna had the moment she’d emerged from the mirror.

"Oh, Farore… we're back in the museum! Haha, yes! We're free!"

It was true; somehow, they’d popped back out into reality, not in the desert where the mirror was, but back in the actual Museum of National History, in the Kakariko Village room.

"How… Did we get back here…?" Midna asked, confused. Honestly, it didn't add up. Even if Kafei bouncing the light off of his shield had managed to repair the portal on their side, the shards of glass on the floor here seemed to suggest that the mirror had broken on both sides, so… how had they managed to come back out?

“Dude, who cares?” Kafei laughed, shaking Midna’s arm bracingly. “Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth! We’re back in reality, we can get out of here now!”

Get out of here… Except Sheik was still somewhere in the building, along with Zelda and Aryll and Colin and Groose and Marin and Linebeck and Ralph… Could she bring herself to leave, knowing her friends were still there, still in danger? And Link was still in prison presumably… Whatever was going on, they were going to need him. Strange as it sounded, he was the Hero of Time. He would know what to do.

Something prodded at her mind and she frowned, turning away from Kafei to face towards the entrances to another exhibit. She could feel something down there… something calling out to her. Not as strongly as the mirror or the Fused Shadow, but she recognized it now as something of Twili origin, an object of Shadow Magic. There was another thing she needed to find, somewhere nearby… and it was moving…

A familiar cackle rent the air, and Midna felt her body go tense.

Oh Goddesses, not again…!

“Well well, lookie here!” the masked boy’s voice called tauntingly, echoing off the walls of the exhibit. “The two short people back from the darkness. How was your trip? Did you bring me back a present?”

“I’ve got it for you right here, why don’t you come down and get it?” Midna called out threateningly, ready to pry the mask off that boy’s face with her newfound powers and beat him senseless. She wasn’t too concerned about how old he was at this point; the boy was pure evil.

“Cool it, girly, I’m not here for you,” the boy responded flippantly, and Midna shot Kafei a surprised look.

Kafei blinked. “What?”

“That’s right, kid, you’re up!” the masked boy shouted gleefully, and Kafei scowled.

“Nuh-uh, no thank you, I am done with your nonsense, kid. Find yourself some new players.”

“Aw… but I was going to give you a real sword and everything to replace that crappy thing you’re clutching in your hands…”

Kafei shrugged. “Oh well, sucks to be you, doesn’t it?”

There was a pause, and Midna almost willed herself into believing that he’d given up.

“…What if I told you that if you pass this last test, you’ll get your normal body back?”

Silence reigned in the exhibit as Midna stared at Kafei and Kafei stared at the floor.

"Meet me in the atrium when you make up your mind." The boy‘s laughter faded, and he was gone.

Kafei glanced up nervously and met Midna’s eyes.

“Mid-“

“I know,” she answered, feeling both frustrated and worried. “Good luck.”

“No chance you might want to come with me and help me out?” he chuckled anxiously, trying to hide his fear behind his bravado like always.

Guilt ate away at her heart. “Kafei, I… I want to, but… You’re not going to believe me, but I can feel something close by in the other direction, something important… I don’t know what it is, but I need to be there…”

Kafei nodded understandingly. “I get it, it’s ok…”

“I promise I’m not just making up excuses-“

“No really, I believe you,” and from the confidant smile he gave her, she knew he was telling the truth. “Look, thanks for… well, everything. You saved my life back there, and… well, I owe you one.”

He offered her a hand, and she snorted and knocked it away, stepping closer and giving him the tightest hug she could muster.

“You saved my life first, idiot,” she reminded him. “Plus you’re the moron who accidentally got us out of there… I’m the one who should be thanking you…”

He chuckled. “Oh, so now you admit how wonderful I am?”

She snorted and stepped away, wiping at her eyes. An awkward pause fell over them.

“Well… Tell Sheik and the others I said hey when you find them, ok?”

“Alright,” Midna replied, wishing she could say she’d find them soon. “And the next time I see you, you’ll be taller than me again… Are you sure you want to do this? I kinda like you being short.”

“Well, I don’t have a choice there, Mid. Anju can’t exactly be seen dating a fifth-grader.”

With a roguish wink, Kafei spun on the spot, cape billowing out behind him dramatically, and a moment later he was gone.

Midna smiled, then exhaled deeply. Goddesses, please keep her friend safe… Keep all of them safe… Help them all get out of this alive…

Cracking her knuckles, she put on her determined face and turned around, heading in the opposite direction from Kafei. Whatever was going on, she’d get to the bottom of it, and when she found out who was responsible for hurting her friends… Well…

They were going to pay.


	21. The House on the Hill

“I’m sorry this isn’t more fun for you,” Marin found herself admitting, turning her face down so that her hair hid her eyes from view.

She and Groose had been walking for what felt like over an hour now, following the river from Flatt’s ruined manor as per his ghostly direction. Thus far, they’d seen little to nothing, and though Marin’s fervor at having received a quest from Flatt the Younger himself had yet to abate, she knew that Groose wasn’t particularly enthused with their present situation.

Groose grunted in a noncommittal fashion. “Nah, don’t worry about it. It’s not so bad, really; at least nothin’s tryin’ to eat us. Music’s just not really my thing, I guess.”

He walked on for a few extra steps before realizing that Marin had frozen in her tracks, a look of abject horror on her face.

“…What?”

“You… You don’t like… _music?!”_

From the tone of her voice, Groose may as well have admitted to cooking babies for dinner.

He gave an uncomfortable shrug, not meeting her eyes. “Eh, I guess not. I mean, I like to have a nice jam playin’ while I’m working out, but studyin’ it and stuff? That ain’t really my thing. I never wanted to learn to play an instrument or nothin’.”

“But how can anyone even say that?!” she wailed, hands clutching her face maddeningly, her fingers digging furrows into her cheeks. “It’s not… You can’t… _Everyone_ likes music, Groose! Everyone! It’s part of your soul!”

“Heh, not my soul,” Groose replied, rubbing his nose self-importantly. “Look, the Groose is a man of legend to be sure, but he ain’t exactly cut out for any of this artsy-fartsy stuff. My soul is a rock-hard granite statue dedicated to my physical prowess on the playing field. That’s all you need to know about me, babe.”

Marin shook her head frenetically, her fiery hair whipping violently around her face.

“No, no, no, no, no, no, Groose, nobody’s that one-dimensional, there has to be more to you than rugby, there has to be!”

“Nope. I’m a simple man of simple pleasures, Marin. I’m pure, bona fide, one-hundred-percent athletic greatness. What you see is what you get. I like it better that way.”

He smirked at her with his trademark limitless confidence and performed an odd sort of eyebrow wiggle, but Marin was too busy undergoing a complete and total psychological meltdown to notice his odd behavior.

“But…! But…! That’s so _boring!_ ” she finally exploded, throwing her hands into the air for dramatic effect.

Groose paused, a disconcerted frown growing on his face.

“Boring?”

“Yeah! Boring! How can you be so… so _plain?!_ There’s got to be more to you than just sports, Groose. I refuse to believe you’re nothing more than a jock. That’s like… that’s like… like a song that only has a melody! It’s boring! You have to have other parts to make up the harmony, or else-!”

“Well, you only like music!” Groose blurted out hastily, cutting her off.

There was a certain defensiveness to his stance and a slightly offended set to his face that let her know she was prodding at a nerve, but rather than back off she found herself only more encouraged to dig deeper.

“The only thing you ever talk about is how you want to be a musician! We’re the same!”

“No, Groose, I’m passionate about lots of things,” she stated primly, squaring her shoulders and lifting her chin. “I love the ocean, I love sailing, I love animals, I love going to stupid carnivals and playing dumb games. I can talk about any of those things for hours on end, but you… all you have is sports! That’s not ok! You need to branch out and find other interests!”

“What! The Groose has lots of other interests!” he shouted indignantly, his face growing red.

“Oh yeah? Name three!”

“OK! The ladies-!”

“That doesn’t count, that’s just part of being a teenage boy.”

“Well, um… being cool!”

“What? That’s not even a thing. It’s got to be something tangible, Groose! Something you’re good at! Something you love!”

His jaw worked furiously and his face was almost red enough to match his hair, but his eyes jerked around spastically, refusing to meet hers as he failed to come up with an answer.

Pity flooded Marin’s heart then, and she reached out and placed a bracing hand upon the larger boy’s shoulder. The poor guy… a victim of the modern-day high school social scene and popular culture. He was probably one of those guys who never cried. He was an emotional hobo, bankrupt and homeless, but Marin was determined to change that.

“Groose, it’s ok. I can help you.”

He finally made eye contact and blinked in confusion.

“Huh? What d’you mean?”

“I can share my passion with you!”

And with that bold pronouncement, Marin shoved her free hand into her purse and rummaged around for a bit, finally bringing out a small wooden instrument and shoving it at Groose’s chest.

“Here!” she chirped brightly, stepping back and beaming at the boy as he examined his present dubiously.

“Uh… what is it?”

“It’s a pan flute!” she cried happily as though this were the most glorious thing in the world.

Groose’s eyebrows drew together.

“A what?”

“It’s like… It’s a wind instrument. See all these little reed pipes of different lengths that are stuck together? You blow into them to make music! It’s really easy to learn! I figured that since I dragged you into this silly test of mine that I may as well give you an instrument so you can have something to do. Maybe you’ll discover a new passion!”

The look he sent her was unreadable, his golden eyes like burnished brass in the cloudy afternoon sunlight, but after a moment he snorted and shook his head, a wry twist to his lips, before slipping the pan flute’s leather thong around his neck and holding it up to look at the little colored bands that encased each individual reed and the aged tassels that hung off either side.

“Do you like it?” Marin asked eagerly.

Hesitantly, he held the flute up to his lips and gave it a quick blow. A doleful note came out, like a hoot of an owl, and he shot Marin a bemused look before smiling sincerely and saying, “Sure, it’s pretty cool.”

“Yay!” the excitable girl cheered, throwing herself forward and giving Groose a tight hug before bouncing back and fixing the boy with a stern, no-nonsense look.

“Ok, now while we walk, I’ll teach you how to use it properly.”

“Uh, what?”

The trek forwards was significantly less dull now that Marin had something to occupy her time. Groose proved to be a difficult student to teach; not because learning the instrument was difficult per se, but simply because he didn’t seem to grasp the concepts of melody and harmonization that she was trying to instill in him.

Also, it… may have something to do with the fact that she’d gotten herself completely carried away in trying to impart her love of music into the hollow, empty void that was the jock’s emaciated husk of a soul and as such had tried to teach him far more than he was ready to handle, but she was enjoying herself immensely and in spite of her confusing and demanding instructions, the larger male hadn’t been able to prevent a small smile from quirking the corners of his lips up every now and again since her impromptu lessons had begun.

It was hard to say for how long they walked and practiced together after that point, as the two teens were completely enthralled with each other and what they were doing; Marin playing short, simple melodies with practiced ease on one of the many flutes she carried in her bag and Groose attempting to follow along on the pan flute, more often than not messing up the notes and then laughing uproariously whenever Marin would let out a theatrical cringe.

He wasn’t the best student, but regardless she was having fun and for a while, she forgot that they were trapped in a museum full of magic and monsters and death and that at any moment their entire world could come crashing down around them.

Eventually, however, their lessons came to an end as the duo found themselves at the bottom of a small cliff.

The tiny river they were following was apparently fed by a waterfall, a very tiny waterfall, which stemmed from somewhere a half-dozen yards over their heads. There were no hills around them, no ladders to climb or elevators to take, and Marin didn’t think she’d be capable of scaling it freehand, especially not in a dress.

After a moment of quiet contemplation, the two teens exchanged looks.

“What do you think?”

“Dunno. I could probably climb it if I had a rope, but we don’t, so…”

“What about that grapple hook thingy you have?”

“Is it long enough? There ain’t anything to latch it on to anyway… besides, I left it on our bird. Do you think he’s rested enough to carry us up?”

Marin shrugged, holding the flute up to her lips.

“Well, I guess we’ll find out.”

A song and a brief flight later, the two teens were scrambling off the back of their large, masked eagle friend, Groose idly detaching his makeshift reins and Marin scratching the bird’s neck and laughing in delight as it preened.

Groose shot her a sidelong glance as he slid his belt through the hoop he made with the rope of his grappling hook, watching the way she rubbed the bird's neck and cooed, another one of those half-smiles pulling at the side of his lips. 

“Tch. Bird freak.”

“Muscle jerk,” she shot back, sticking her tongue out playfully.

With an ear-splitting cry, their monstrous bird took off in a rustle of wings and feathers, swooping low off the cliff edge they had just scaled and soaring off into the distance.

"Well, now what?" Groose asked, sticking his fingers into his back pockets and giving her an inquisitive look.

Marin shrugged. “Keep following the river, I guess.”

“Right, the river.” Groose snorted, turning around and facing the direction they were now to go. “This has to be the dumbest… Hey, what’s that?”

Marin, whose eyes were glued to the now distant bird, turned around curiously to see what Groose was talking about.

The landscape above the cliff face was much the same as it had been below; plain brown dirt as far as the eye could see, speckled with scattered scrubs and a few patches of sparse grass, perhaps one or two thin, reedy trees. She could see what looked like mountains not too far in the distance, and a valley that swept low to her right. It was none of this that caught her attention, however; rather, the moment she turned around, her eyes latched on to what was obviously the object of Groose’s confusion- a small wooden house.

A wooden house in and of itself was nothing to be surprised about. Even in a place as remote and uninhabited as this, the fact that they saw a building really wasn’t all that weird; after all, they had just been at an old, surely other people had lived in the area too, even up on this cliff.

However, it wasn’t the building that made her eyebrows climb up her forehead, but rather what was attached to it.

The building sported what looked like a large waterwheel that dangled lifelessly off one of its walls over the now mostly empty riverbank. The waters had receded so much that they no longer touched the wheel and as such could not turn it, and it was for this reason presumably that the house looked abandoned.

However, even a lifeless waterwheel was nowhere near as remarkable as the massive brass horn that sat perched atop the building’s roof. Slightly dented and showing obvious signs of age, it gave off the impression that the house, and by extension the waterwheel, was nothing more than a massive record player or music box. But why on earth would somebody build a house-sized music player in the middle of nowhere…?

The decision to check out the strange building was unanimous. Nodding excitedly, the two teens set off at once across the barren terrain, crossing the skimpy river hastily (it wasn’t that deep, but it wasn’t exactly shallow either. The water came up to her midriff and she had to grab on to Groose’s arm to prevent being stuck in the mud on the bottom) and making their way towards the old, mysterious house.

“What d’you think’s inside?” Groose asked breathlessly as they drew near, obvious excitement sparkling in his eyes as he flexed his fingers in his gold-and-leather gauntlets. “More treasure? Another weird ghost musician? Food?!”

“Oh, I would kill for something to eat…” Marin moaned, practically salivating. “What do you think the chances are that the museum’s cafeteria is actually inside that house?”

“Oh, don’t even tease me like that,” he laughed as they drew near.

A dozen yards or so from the porch of the odd-looking house, something caught Marin’s eye.

There, just around the side of the building behind the lifeless water wheel sat what looked to be a small riverside garden, replete with rows of cabbages and carrots and turnips galore in what were once neat and orderly columns. It even had a couple raggedy scarecrows standing crookedly to the side, looking lonely amidst the overgrown vegetables.

Marin eyed the vegetables with a frown as she and Groose neared the house. Judging by their state, no one had been along to tend to them in quite a while, meaning that the house probably wasn’t occupied. Not too surprising, seeing as the river was apparently drying up and the water wheel couldn’t work anymore, but she was a little disappointed that there wasn’t anyone else around. Still… if the inside of the building didn’t turn out to be the cafeteria, the two could still stop by the garden and snag a couple quick snacks before hurrying on…

The moment Groose drew within a few feet of the porch, a sharp, clear voice rang out from somewhere nearby.

“Hey! Hey you, fleshies! What d’you think you’re doin’?!”

Marin practically leaped out of her skin. Whirling around, raising her fists in an admittedly pathetic attempt at looking threatening, she scanned the surrounding area with frantic eyes and saw no one. Turning back around, she made eye contact with a confused Groose and shrugged helplessly. She didn’t know where the voice had come from, but they had to be close…

Groose made as though to step forward toward the porch and the voice called out once again.

“Hey! Stop that! Don’t you go any closer now, y’hear?!”

Marin frowned and scanned the old, cracked windows, but it was too dark inside to see anything. Besides, the voice was definitely coming from somewhere outside… behind the house, maybe?

Motioning for Groose to follow her, she slowly began tiptoeing around the building, letting her gaze sweep the area as she cautiously advanced, Groose only a step behind her, his fists held up and ready to strike, looking impressive in his golden gauntlets.

“Hello?” Marin called out hesitantly once she and Groose had passed the silent water wheel and arrived at the back of the building, finding themselves alone.

“Hello yourself, fleshy,” came an irritated grunt from the direction of the garden, and Marin squeaked and stepped back.

“Where… where are you? Show yourself!” Marin half-demanded, half-stammered, shuffling nervously backward so she was partially obscured behind Groose.

Someone sniggered (a second ghost?!), and the first voice spoke up again, sounding exasperated.

“Where…? Now I figured y’all were stupid, what with you comin’ up here all on yer lonesome, but I never figured you were blind, too.”

Marin blinked several times in rapid succession. She was certain that the voice was coming from the garden, but there was nobody there… Unless those vegetables were able to speak, which seemed unlikely. There could be only one answer…

“Are you a ghost?” she asked, trying to sound brave but ending up squeaking rather pathetically.

“Goddesses, fleshy, I’m right here in front of yer nose!”

And without warning, the scarecrow on the right threw its hands up into the air in exasperation.

Marin and Groose latched onto each other and let out twin screams of horror.

The second voice exploded into a fit of hysterical laughter, and the scarecrow on the left and slightly further back in the garden doubled-over on itself, clutching its stomach with its handless arms as though it were in pain as it guffawed uncontrollably.

“Pierre, get a hold of yerself,” the first scarecrow drawled testily, rotating on the spot where its pole was stuck into the ground and facing its companion.

“Oh man… Oh wow, sorry Bonooru, I just… whew… That was probably the funniest thing I’ve seen in decades. I like you, fleshies, you should come around more often.”

“They shouldn’t be here at all!” the first scarecrow (Bonooru?) shouted indignantly, whirling back to face the teenagers and making Marin gasp.

“What are you doin’ here anyhow?!” he demanded.

They were basically comprised entirely of straw and had only two main body segments; a circular head and an ovular chest. Two arms stuck out awkwardly on either side of their torso, and each one wore what looked like a ratty blue vest and a red scarf around the neck, and each had a wide-brimmed hat perched atop their head, sort of like a sombrero.

It was their faces that were the most disturbing, however; two black dots for eyes and a sinuous black like for a mouth that curved upwards on the ends in the suggestion of a smile, complete with red circles that were supposed to emulate rosy cheeks and, oddest of all, extra tufts of straw had been glued above their eyes in the place of eyebrows that were wildly bushy and sharply angled, giving them a slightly maddening expression.

When they spoke, they turned their faces towards their guests, yet their mouths never moved and their faces remained unchanged. It made her skin crawl, but she didn’t want to say anything lest they think she was being rude.

“We, uh…” Marin started, casting a desperate look at Groose for help, only her companion was too busy staring at the scarecrows in abject horror to notice, “We’re on a quest…”

“A quest,” Bonooru parroted flatly. Pierre sniggered again.

“Yes… A magical quest… A magical, musical quest…”

Somehow, it wasn’t until that very moment that she realized just how silly all of this was.

She expected the scarecrows to laugh at her again and mock her for her trivial, childish delusions; she was prepared for the criticism, any musician worth her salt was ready for the hatemongers. She wasn’t expecting them to perk up excitedly and exchange glances, however.

“…Music, you say?” Bonooru asked carefully.

“Um… yes?”

“Are you two musicians?”

“Well, I am-“

“Alright!” Pierre shouted, twirling around and waving his arms excitedly. “Why didn’t you say so in the first place, fleshy?! I’ve been dying for a solid jam to dance to! Play us a tune, baby!”

Marin felt her face go red. She wasn’t usually the type to get shy in front of an audience, but the appearance of talking scarecrows had sort of thrown her off her game, and she and Groose were sort of busy at the moment… she didn’t have time to perform a personal concert.

"Listen, guys, we don't really have time to-“

“Aw, don’t be like that!” Pierre insisted, throwing his arms together in a pleading motion. “Pretty please, fleshy? You can’t just leave us hanging like this! What’s so important that you gotta rush off?”

“Well, we’re on a musical quest given to us by the legendary composer brother, Flat. I’m supposed to be learning about the magic of melody so I can become a master composer too, just like him. So you see, I really don’t have time to be-“

“Well, what if we’re a part of yer test?” Bonooru spoke up.

Marin blinked. “A part of my…?”

"That's right. We scarecrows, we know a lot about music. It's one of our greatest passions, it is. But we've got our own special melody- the Scarecrow song. Powerfully magical it is, but I'd be willing to teach it to you ya if you do us the honor of playin’ us a little diddly first.”

Pierre made an odd choking sound as if he were trying to stifle his sniggering, but Marin ignored him, focusing on Bonooru instead. A part of her quest… Sure, it sounded absurd, but… well, everything she’d been doing so far had been pretty absurd too. Maybe she should give it a shot, just in case…

She cast Groose a questioning look, and he merely shrugged silently as if to say, ‘hey, this music business is your department. I’m just tagging along.’

“Alright, Mr. Bonooru,” Marin declared, straightening her posture and stepping closer to the two scarecrows, digging one of the nicer flutes out of her purse, “I’ll do it. Any requests?”

When she finally stopped playing a good while later, she found herself breathless but enthused. For a couple of guys without legs, they sure knew how to dance, and she’d played a little of everything for them- tangos, waltzes, sambas, she even sang a couple hip-hop songs. To say her crowd was a receptive audience would be an understatement. When she finished, she bowed theatrically to the cheers and shouts of Bonooru and Pierre; even Groose rose from where he’d been sitting and offered a few applause of his own, a smirk on his face that was teasing and almost affectionate.

She met his gaze and flushed, giggling stupidly, not really sure what to make of how he was looking at her. This quest of theirs was turning out to be pretty fun after all, even if it was silly beyond all comprehension.

“Little lady, thank you for the beautiful musics you played for us today. It was much appreciated,” Bonooru intoned gratefully, offering her a brief bow.

“Yeah, baby!” Pierre chimed in, still dancing, “That was more fun than we’ve had in… I can’t even remember how long!”

"Thanks, guys,” Marin replied bashfully. “So… Tell me about this Scarecrow Song. How does it go?”

Bonooru and Pierre grew still and exchanged looks.

“Yer right, miss. A deal is a deal… I must now teach you the Scarecrow Song…”

An ominous silence pervaded the garden, and Marin felt herself shivering involuntarily.

“First, you must prepare yourself… Raise your instrument of choice, and play for me a simple melody…”

Exchanging nervous looks with Groose, Marin raised the flute to her lips and played a common nursery rhyme. Why did she need to play a song to prepare herself when she’d just been playing songs for them? Well, whatever, she was sure they knew what they were doing-

All at once, Bonooru began to shake. Limbs spasming, head wagging back and forth, he let out a mighty cry, thrust his arms into the sky and bellowed, "The pact has been made!"

There was a pause, and then he returned his arms to their normal positions.

“Ok, you’re done. You’ve learned the song.”

Marin blinked. “I- what? No, I haven't. I haven't learned anything, you just told me to play something for you and I did."

“Exactly,” Bonooru replied, nodding sagely.

“Why you dirty-!” Groose growled, stalking forward and raising his fist menacingly. Bonooru leaned back, alarmed, waving his arms hastily in front of his face.

“Now wait, hold on a tick! The Scarecrow’s Song isn’t an actual melody- it can be whatever you like! The song you played is now your very own Scarecrow’s Song. You forged a pack with me, so now you just need to play that song again whenever you feel like it, and you’ll receive the Blessing of the Scarecrow!”

“The Blessing of the Scarecrow?” Groose repeated, unimpressed.

“That’s right! Try playin’ it again later, when you’re somewhere nice and peaceful like- you’ll see what I mean. Oh, but don’t play it here!” he added frantically when Marin moved to play the song again, “It won’t work if I can still hear it. It has to be somewhere far away.”

Groose snorted disbelievingly, and Pierre spoke up.

“Well, what about you, big guy? I see those reed pipes hanging around your neck. Want to form your own pact with the scarecrows? It’s pretty easy, and you might just be grateful you did…”

Groose opened his mouth to refuse outright when Marin spoke up.

“Yeah Groose, you should totally do it!”

The look he gave her was one of sheer disbelief.

“I should?!”

“He should?” Pierre chimed in, sounding like he couldn’t believe she was agreeing with him either.

“Yeah! I mean sure, it sounds like a load of donkey manure, but I want to see if you retained anything I was teaching you about music!”

She flashed him a winning smile and watched as the look of hardened refusal melted off his face.

“Well… Fine, I guess, but don’t expect anything good,” he grumped, turning to face Pierre and awkwardly holding the pan flute to his face.

He shot Marin one last disconcerted look before screwing up his face and blowing into the flute. He made one pass from the deepest note to the highest note and stopped.

“There, I did it,” he insisted petulantly, dropping the flute and letting it swing from the thong around his neck, bouncing off his chest.

Marin frowned, preparing herself to lecture him on at least trying to play something when Bonooru cut in again.

“The pact has been made!” he declared theatrically, once again throwing his arms up into the air.

“Yeah whatever, you old coot,” Groose spat, sounding surprisingly bitter, stalking away from them and back towards the house. “We wasted enough time here, Marin. We need to get going if we want to finish your quest and get out of here.”

“Yeah…” Marin sighed, a little upset over Groose’s behavior but accepting that he was correct. Smiling and waving a polite goodbye to the scarecrows, Marin turned and darted off after Groose.

“Hey… Wait now, where are you fleshies goin’?”

“Wait, don’t go that way! There’s nothing in the house, don’t go in there!”

Ignoring them, Marin caught up to her companion just as he stepped onto the wrap-around porch and grabbed him by the arm.

“Hey, are you ok?” she asked hesitantly, half worried he might start yelling. He was a nice guy, but she could tell he had a fiery temperament and she still felt guilty that she was selfishly dragging him all over the place for no good reason.

Groose stopped and let out a sigh, bringing his hands up and digging the heels of his palms into his eyes as if he could shove the weariness away. After a moment, he turned to her and flashed a weak grin.

“Heh, yeah… I’m just tired, that’s all. Sorry, I guess I’m just a little frustrated…”

“I’m the one that should be apologizing…” Marin admitted, striding towards the front of the house and leaning back against the old porch fence dejectedly. “I shouldn’t have forced you to learn about music if you didn’t want to. Oh, and then I made you play for that scarecrow… I’m sorry, Groose, I just get so excited sometimes that I-!”

“No!” Groose cut in as tears of frustration and self-loathing began welling up in Marin’s overly-emotional eyes, waving his hands frantically in front of his face and looking harried.

“No, no, Marin, that’s not…! T-that’s not why I’m frustrated!”

“It’s not?”

“Naw! I mean yeah, you kinda put me on the spot there, but… Heh, it’s not like the Groose ain’t used to bein’ in the spotlight or nuthin'. Nah, I just… I mean, what are we even doing here? What's the point of all this? I mean before, that kid in the mask and that freaky albino were making us do tests about heroism and whatnot for whatever reason, but now… What are we doing? Where are we goin’? Are we… Are we ever gonna find the others and get outta here?”

Marin opened her mouth to spew out the first encouraging thing she could think of and instead found her throat inexplicably blocked.

What was the point in all of this? Not her music test- that was just a distraction from the living nightmare they’d found themselves in- but of the things the masked boy and his accomplices were making them do. Was there a reason? Was it just a distraction? And why hadn’t she and Groose seen anyone else?

Frowning, Marin strengthened her resolve and swallowed back the lump in her throat as forcefully as she could. She wasn’t the type of girl who backed down from a challenge, and in the short time that she’d known Groose she could tell he wasn’t either. Now wasn’t the time for worry or self-pity. Now was the time for action.

Stepping forward, she placed her hand on Groose’s shoulder and looked him straight in his golden eyes.

“Listen… I don’t know what’s going on any more than you do, but we can’t let ourselves get bogged down in all this negativity. Whatever those weirdos are planning, we’re still alive and we can still keep on fighting, so they haven’t won yet. I… I know I dragged you on this silly music quest, but honestly, we can stop if you want to. I was just trying to distract myself from all the craziness, and I guess I was hoping that we’d find some of the others along the way, but if you wanna go ahead and quit, then-“

“Marin, come on,” Groose cut off, shooting her a flat look. “I mean yeah, I don’t really get music, but I do understand challenging yourself and provin’ that you’re the best. We’ll see this thing through, so don’t worry about it.”

She smiled at him gratefully, but she still felt that twinge of guilt inside. Groose was a nice guy, far nicer than she’d expected him to be. She’d need to find some way to make this all up to him when it was over.

Rounding the railing and stepping off the porch, she walked idly back toward the cliff, hands linked behind her back. Absently, she called over her shoulder, “Thanks, Groose. I’ll try my best to make sure you don’t get too bored.”

He snorted behind her; she hadn’t realized he’d followed her off the porch. “Right. Cause it’s possible to be bored hangin’ out with someone as weird as you.”

She smiled at the underhanded compliment and turned to call him out for it when he cut her off, motioning back over his shoulder toward the mystery house.

“So, we gonna check out what’s inside or what?”

She'd nearly forgotten! Well, the last time they'd gone in a mysterious abandoned building, she'd been given the quest of a lifetime. Maybe there'd be something incredible inside this house too! Meeting Groose's eye, she nodded emphatically.

Casting her an excited look, Groose sprang back up the three rickety steps to the building’s termite-ridden porch and placed his hand on the old, weathered doorknob.

“Any last bets?” he called over his shoulder, and Marin shook her head, exhausted and excited and thoroughly enjoying this bizarre little adventure and the strange new friend she’d found.

“Just open it! The suspense is killing me!” she threw her head back dramatically to emphasize the point.

“Ok, here we go!” And with triumphant flare, he threw the door open.

A figure in white bandages immediately lunged for him out of the open doorway, arms extended, red eyes glowing ominously behind aged bindings, and as one Groose and Marin screamed.

The monster seized Groose in a crushing embrace, moaning and shrieking and lunging for his throat with its gaping, decaying jaw. Groose stumbled back across the porch bellowing hoarsely, fighting with his arms and elbows, trying simultaneously to keep its mouth from his neck and remove the creature from his body, but before either he or the monster could make any progress Groose’s foot slipped off the porch step without realizing and as one the two tumbled to the ground.

“Groose!” Marin cried, terrified and concerned, but a series of moans and dragging footsteps echoing from out of the house alerted her to the presence of more monsters coming her way. They needed to get out of there and fast.

Apparently, both Groose and the bizarre mummy creature had been dazed by the unexpected tumble off the porch. Groose lay spread-eagle on his back, his eyes closed as he groaned in pain; the monster lay splayed across his chest like a lover, its head nestled awkwardly in the crook of his neck, its body spasming as it struggled to move its large, fetid limbs.

Unfortunately, the mummy recovered first and managed to push itself up on all-fours, looming over Groose’s disoriented form, a raspy moan emitting triumphantly from its dry, mummified throat.

"Oh, no you don't!" Marin cried, reaching her friend at the last moment and dealing a powerful kick to the mummy's head, which jerked sharply to the right with a loud crack before slumping at a rather disturbing angle.

Groose finally managed to get his hands up on the monster’s chest and, screwing up his face in concentration, he gave a tremendous grunt and heaved the creature off him with all his might.

The mummified monster’s arms were torn from its torso, and the creature was flung over a dozen feet into the air from the force of Groose’s push, landing with a splash in the river and sinking to the bottom.

Groose lay on the ground, a stupefied expression on his face as he took in the sight of his gauntleted hands raised in front of him, the mummy’s disembodied arms still clinging to his shoulders.

“What in the…?”

“Groose, come on, get up! We need to get out of here!”

“Uh, right, ok!” he stammered, hastily clambering to his feet and taking stock of their surroundings. A half dozen mummified creatures had stumbled out of the rickety old house and were lumbering towards them, stiff limbs held aloft, jaws gaping, bone-chilling moans echoing from their dry, emaciated throats.

“What do we do?!” Marin cried, feeling terror clawing at her throat.

The mummies weren’t particularly fast, but it couldn’t be said that they were slow, either; they walked at a rapid pace, but they were hindered by their own clunky limbs which didn’t seem to retain the coordination they had in life, and so they staggered a lot and dragged their feet across the dusty ground. The two teens would easily be able to outrun them… but their backs were to both the river and the cliff. To run, they’d need to circle around the house which meant bypassing the ever-growing militia of zombies pouring out of the front door, a feat which was becoming less and less likely the longer they deliberated.

“Marin, what’re you doing?!” came a scandalized cry from the riverbank.

Turning her head lethargically, Marin was surprised to see Groose hastily floundering back towards her from the depths of the river, his jaw slack with terror, his eyes wide and terrified. Wait… when had he run to the river? Wasn’t he standing right next to her a second ago?

“Run!” he bellowed hoarsely, struggling to move through the waist-deep water, “Why are you just standing there?! Run!”

Run? Run away? She tried to move, but her joints felt stiff and frozen. She opened her mouth to cry out, but tongue felt thick and useless. Those monsters, those nightmares, were right there in front of her, and she was so afraid…

She was within arm’s reach of the mummy now. She watched, trembling, as though frozen in jello as the monster lifted its heavy, bandaged arms as if to embrace her, its decaying head lolling forward drunkenly, mouth hanging open, drool dribbling all over its emaciated chest…

A red-and-blue blur slammed into the mummy from the side, tackling it into the ground.

“Snap out of it!” Groose grunted, struggling with the mummy he’d pinned under him with all the finesse of a pro rugby star. “Run or fight or whatever, but don’t just stand there and let them get you! Come on!”

Run or fight or…?

She blinked. Fight. She could fight! She had the baton!

Numbly, her fingers began scrambling at the flap of her purse where she’d stashed the Wind Waker along with the rest of her flutes, withdrawing the thin white stick and brandishing it like a noble rapier.

Her legs still felt like stone, but as she held the tiny magical artifact aloft as though commanding an orchestra and not the walking dead, she realized she could move her arms. Sure, they trembled and spasmed with the weight of her fear, but at the very least they responded. Zeroing in on the next-closest cluster of monsters, she drew the baton high as if signaling the beginning of the next piece of music, and began to conduct.

The wind responded instantly, whipping around her in a tempest, snagging at her hair and her skirts, rushing up from over the edge of the cliff behind her. As she waved her arms, she found it difficult to stop her hand from quivering, throwing off the direction she wanted the air to go, but it wound up not mattering; the mummies were strong, but their legs seemed unable to bend and brace against the gale emitted from Marin’s composition and the veritable army of the undead began stumbling in earnest, bumping into one another and falling to the ground.

Dust had been kicked up by the whirlwind and it stung at her skin and eyes, nearly blanketing the surrounding area in a fog of sand. She wasn’t sure for how long she went at it, but after a while, a sound caught her ears over the roar of the gale.

“Marin!”

Blinking, she looked down at Groose and was surprised to see him curled up into a ball on the dirt, his forearm covering his eyes to protect them from the sand. He’d somehow managed to tear the head off the mummy he’d been fighting earlier and its body was rolling away, carried by the wind like a tumbleweed.

“Marin! Marin, stop! Stop!”

Worried that she was somehow hurting him, Marin let her baton trail off and ended her control over the wind. All at once the fierce gale died and the dust gradually began floating back to the ground.

Grunting, he removed his arm from in front of his face and peered at her owlishly before turning his head and spitting onto the ground with a grimace.

“Ugh, now my mouth tastes like mud…”

“Are… are you ok?” she asked, letting her arms drift jerkily back to her sides.

“Yeah… But I had to get you to stop. You’re not doin’ any good, you only knocked them over. We need to get moving before they get back up.”

He was right, unfortunately. One look through the quickly settling dust told her that the mummies that had been prowling the grounds around the old abandoned house had merely tumbled over from the force of the wind. Though their movements were stiff and jerky, a handful had managed to get to their knees, and a few had even begun crawling towards them.

Feeling the terror clawing at her throat once more, she turned to Groose and practically wailed, “Well, what do we do now?!”

“We run,” he replied grimly, finally climbing to his feet and wiping the dirt off his face onto his sleeve. “Let’s cut around through the river; I doubt they can move through the water as well as we can. Once we cross to the other shore, let’s book it to the river’s source and get this stupid quest over with.”

It was as good a plan as any, although it required heading toward the silent water wheel to cross the river which put them closer to the mummies than if they had gone left and around the house the long way, but Groose did have a point about the river. If they couldn’t stand up to the wind, she highly doubted they could brace against a current of water, particularly not with how muddy she knew the river bed to be. Their bodies were so dusty and decayed, trying to follow them through might well cause them to fall apart.

The two teens set off at a trot, skirting wide around downed mummies so as to not attract their ire, but Marin’s gaze strayed from the path they were walking back towards the front door of the old abandoned home. The darkness inside was thick enough to obscure vision, but even as she watched more mummies began pouring out from the inside. Din, how many were there?! How many could fit inside? Or were they spawning there, rising from the ground like the legions of the underworld in the horror movies her father liked to watch around-

Something snagged her foot, and she stumbled to the ground.

Breath hitching in her throat, she turned to see what had tripped her and tried to scream, but found the air trapped in her chest. One of the mummies she’d knocked over earlier had grabbed onto her ankle as she ran passed. She should have been paying attention to where she was going! She should have… She should have…!

The monster opened its mouth, giving her a good glimpse of the insides of its rotted mouth, gaping open wide, inviting her inside, and she forced her leaden arms to move.

The Wind Waker came to bear, waving a jerky circle in a stabbing motion towards the monster that held her prisoner as if she were fending it off with a sword. A single, concentrated burst of air slammed into the mummy with all the force of a fire hose and the creature was torn free of her leg, its body flung ten feet into the air before crashing down to the earth and rolling another ten. Glancing down, she saw that its hand was still attached to her leg. This time, the scream ripped out of her of its own volition.

“Marin?! Marin!”

She heard Groose’s panicked yell from somewhere behind her where he’d apparently once again forged on ahead assuming she’d followed, and felt another stab of panic as she looked up and realized the mummies that had exited the house were now bearing down on her, the others that she’d knocked over earlier now picking themselves up off the floor and rejoining the hunt.

Kicking the rotted hand off her leg, she pushed herself shakily to her knees and aimed the baton at the nearest zombie like a sword. The funnel of air she expelled in its direction was so sharp and strong that she literally tore the creature in two. Eyes wide and wild, blood pounding in her ears, she turned to the next, and the next, striking the mummies down and blasting them away with concentrated streams of air and tiny, fierce tornados.

A cry of alarm sounded behind her and she whirled about to find Groose tussling with another of the mummies. Clearly, he'd come back for her again upon realizing she wasn't following. She could see another two approaching from behind him. How?! Was there a back door she hadn't seen?

Without sparing a thought, she whipped the baton to the side and sent a stream of air that buffeted the figures in front of her with the force of an explosion, sending them flying backwards into the corner of the porch.

Her aim was off, however, and she caught Groose with the full brunt of the attack by mistake; his body sailed backward and crashed into one of the aged, dusty pillars that held up the porch's awning, and with an ear-splitting crack and a wave of dust, Groose and the mummies vanished beneath a whirl of dust and a pile of broken wood.

Horrified, Marin brought her hand down and took a few hesitant steps forward. Nayru, she hadn’t meant to catch Groose in that! She hoped he was ok. That hit looked like it had hurt, but she could see the mummies she’d hit struggling to shift the tiny mound of wood and debris. If they had survived, Groose must have too. He was all big bones and thick muscle. He was probably fine… right?

She moved as though to help shift the wood but hesitated when she saw more mummies coming from around the side of the water wheel. To her left, more and more were pouring out of the front door. Nayru, they really were endless, weren’t they? Nothing for it but for them to run… but if she tried to stand still and liberate Groose from the wood, they’d get them both.

Feeling like a coward, Marin did the only thing she could think of: sending a single wave of air towards the pile of broken wood, she blasted it and the mummies towards the river. She didn’t see Groose, but he had to have been knocked free in that. She hoped he wasn’t badly hurt, but standing still to check on him could cost them both their lives. Dancing back a few steps, she turned and called out to her friend, “Groose! I’m gonna run around the far side of the house! You go around by the river and we’ll meet up on the other side!”

It was the only thing she could think of. By splitting up, they could divide the monsters' attentions between the two of them, and as Groose had pointed out earlier, they weren't very fast. They could easily outrun them and cross the river. Running was their only choice. Fighting was getting them nowhere.

Hoping he’d heard her but promising to go back and help him if he hadn’t even if it meant getting eaten by mummies, Marin turned and ran around the horde of zombies and swerved around the far side of the house as fast as her still-sodden skirts would allow. Goddesses above… It had been her idea to go on this music quest, but no one told her there’d be mummies in it! What did mummies have to do with music?!

She was going to have nightmares about this for the rest of her life, just watch… The living dead. If there was one legend she could wish wasn’t true, it would be that one.

The living dead…

_‘Give peaceful rest to the living dead…’_

Halfway around the side of the building, Marin skidded to a halt, her eyes wide as saucers. That poem… the poem on the stone in Flat’s tomb…  Was this what it was talking about?!

Hardly daring to believe it, Marin hastily thrust her hand into her bag, exchanging the Wind Waker for a flute and bringing it up to her lips, conscious of the mummies steadily gaining on her from behind.

Screwing up her eyes and summoning the picture of the tiny music staph etched onto the stone’s obsidian face, Marin played the six notes that had been engraved onto the legendary composer brother’s tombstone. As she did, she remembered his words and did as he said, playing those six simple notes with all the desperation and energy of her soul, willing the sounds to reach the very sun that it might hear her cries for help.

As the last note rang out, something cool passed over her skin.

The moment she opened her eyes, a sound reached her ears, like the cracking of ice on a frozen pond.

Darkness surrounded her, and she blinked a couple times in confusion, trying to let her eyes adjust to the sudden lack of light. What… what was going on? Why was it so dark out? Was she still atop that cliff face by the monster-ridden shack or had the song taken her somewhere else? A gust of wind tickled her skin, carrying with it the familiar scent of dry dirt. Her eyes began to adjust, and she was able to make out the worn wooden paneling of the cabin's side. So she was still in the same place…

Remembering the mummies that had been following her a heartbeat later, Marin whipped her head to the right and found herself facing a cluster of mummies standing perfectly still as if frozen in the act of pursuit. They seemed to glow an eerie electric blue, and Marin backed away a few steps as she regarded them, feeling uneasy. Why had they stopped moving? Why were they glowing? Did it have something to do with Flat’s song, the Sun Song? Was this what they meant by ‘give peaceful rest to the living dead’? But what was peaceful about being frozen in place?

Replacing her flute with the Wind Waker once more, Marin screwed up her determination and sent another blast of air at the mummy. It toppled over backward like a domino and lay stiff on the floor for all the world like a statue upended in an earthquake, arms still extended, one leg bent mid-step.

Marin licked her lips nervously and blinked several times before turning and sprinting off towards the back of the house, turning her head to see if the mummies gave chase. None of them moved.

She reached the back section of the house to find that there was, in fact, a back door, and that it stood ajar, the darkness within eclipsing that of the sudden night around her, and a handful of mummies stood frozen around the area. Some moving towards her, others heading around the other side, presumably towards Groose.

At the thought of her unlikely new friend, Marin turned to head over in his direction when a shout from the riverside garden caught her attention.

“Hey! Hey, fleshy! What in tarnation did you do, girl?!”

Bemused, Marin changed directions and headed over to the scarecrows. As she approached, the two yard decorations turned to face her, both of them wiggling anxiously.

“Bonooru…” she panted, slightly winded from the excitement of the last few minutes. “Pierre… are you ok?”

“Aw shucks, Bonooru, she cares.”

“Are we…?! Girl, what fool nonsense have you gotten yourself into?!” Bonooru demanded indignantly, ignoring Pierre’s comment. “Didn’t you hear us hollerin’? This house is cursed! Ever since the river dried up, these mummies have haunted the land. They stay trapped inside usually, but you had to go and let ‘em out!”

“Well, I didn’t know!” Marin retorted, offended. “It’s not like I did it on purpose! What does the river drying up have to do with it? And besides, I stopped it anyway, so we’re ok!”

Bonooru cocked his head to the side. It was her only indication that he was confused; his face remained unchanged as ever throughout their entire conversation.

“You… You reckon’ you stopped it? So you’re the reason it went from day to night in a lick?”

Marin nodded, chewing her lip anxiously and turning her head toward the water wheel. Where was Groose?

“Yeah, I… I played a song. A magic song. Um, it’s supposed to put the dead to rest, or… maybe it just froze them in place? I don’t know. I don’t know how long it will last, either. Maybe just ‘til the sun comes back up? I need to find my friend and get going. You guys should probably go too, or… wait. Can you leave?”

“Don’t you worry about us, darlin’,” Bonooru said firmly, drowning out whatever Pierre was about to say. “Them mummies don’t so much as look at us. They only want more fleshies to eat, like that poor family that used to live here.

“The river pushed the water wheel, which made the music box play. The song was somethin’ special, somethin’ dreamt up by the scientist what lived here before. It drove the monsters away so he could study them. But one mornin’, the river dried up and the music stopped playing. The monsters came back. Ever since then, only mummies have come outta that house. There’s a darkness inside, somethin’ powerful evil. Best you take your friend and get while the gettin’s good, little lady.”

Nodding to herself and feeling more anxious than ever, Marin turned and jogged around the other side of the building, looking for Groose. She passed a few more stagnant mummies, climbed into the river's dry bed and rounded the water wheel, and froze. Before her lay the remains of the side of the porch that had been broken by Groose's body, the chunks of wood and splinters lying in heaps all the way to the river itself, but Groose was nowhere to be found.

Throat suddenly dry, Marin cleared her throat gruffly and called out.

“Groose? Groose, where are you?”

Her voice sounded impossibly lonely in the darkness. Nobody answered.

The anxiety had crept up into her heart and she felt like mice were skittering around inside her ribcage. Striding forward, thinking maybe he’d gone around the other side of the house to find her, she called out again. And again. And again.

The only sound that answered was the wind.

Heart thudding in her throat, Marin turned back and let her gaze brush the horizon. It was too dark to see, the moon hidden behind a blanket of clouds. Could he have finally run off without her? He’d tried twice only to find himself doubling back to save her because she was too scared to think straight and wound up getting himself tossed through a porch for his trouble. She wouldn’t blame him if he had run, but… That wasn’t like Groose. He wouldn’t just abandon her here, not in this place. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t.

_Couldn’t he?_ A tiny voice whispered in her head, _You’ve hardly known the boy for a few hours. Maybe he decided putting up with you wasn’t worth risking his life over._

It was so dark… maybe if she played the song again, the sun would come back out and she’d be able to see in which direction he ran…

She ignored the voice that added ‘ _if he ran’_ to the end of that thought. She didn’t want to think about the alternatives.

Raising the flute to her trembling lips, she blew the first note and stopped.

What if… What if playing the song again undid the freezing spell on the mummies? Finding Groose again wouldn’t do any good if it landed them back in the same pickling barrel they’d been in before.

Assuming Groose wanted her to find him.

Assuming Groose was alive to be found.

Shaking the thought off more insistently, refusing to acknowledge it, Marin retreated to the pile of broken porch pieces and shifted them around with her foot. She couldn’t see any footprints, not in the darkness, but the mummies she’d blasted back with him were still there, frozen in place like their comrades. Where was Groose? How could he have just vanished?

Turning, she walked over to the riverbank, drawing her arms around her chest and rubbing her triceps for warmth. The night air wasn't cold, but she felt a chill anyway. She'd been alone a lot of times in her life but never had she ever felt so lonely.

The riverbank was empty, the water churning sluggishly in the darkness like a current of oil. There was no sign of Groose anywhere.

There was only one other option. If he wasn’t outside and he hadn’t run away, then he must have gone inside the building for some reason.

Her feet felt like stones as she dragged herself back around the water wheel toward the cabin’s back entrance. The very thought of entering this building filled her soul with inexplicable horror, but then the thought of going on and leaving Groose inside, even if there was only a chance that he was in there…

Bonooru's voice called out to her before she drew within five feet of the pitch-black doorway.

“Now what in tarnation do you think you’re doin’, missy?” he harrumphed self-importantly from his place of residence in the garden.

She turned her gaze to him woodenly and felt her jaw crack as she opened her mouth to explain; she’d been clenching it subconsciously, it seemed.

“I can’t find my friend. I think maybe one of the mummies carried him inside.”

Her voice grated like sandpaper to her ears.

Bonooru shook his head solemnly. “You can’t go in after him, darlin’.”

“I’m not going to leave him in there.”

“There is no ‘in there’. I don’t even rightly know that there’s even anything inside that building anymore. Once you cross that threshold, the darkness has you. I’ve seen it happen to others like you. Once you pass into the blackness, you become one of them. There’s nothin’ to fight, nothin’ to challenge, nothin’ to overcome. Just darkness. If your friend really went in there, he’s gone.”

Marin trembled like a leaf in a high C, but stood her ground, resolute.

“I can’t just leave him,” her voice came out surprisingly croaky. Her music teacher would be horrified if he could hear her now.

Bonooru looked to be at a loss for words for a moment, but Pierre filled the silence with a question.

“How do you know they got him?”

Marin opened her mouth, and hesitated.

“Well, he… he’s gone, I can’t find him…”

“Maybe he ran off.”

“He wouldn’t run away!” she practically snarled, an unspoken ‘ _and leave me behind!’_ echoing silently in her head.

_‘You can’t know that.’_ Another voice whispered back mutinously.

“It would be better if he had, hun,” Bonooru cut in gently. “Regardless, I don’t know that I ever saw a monster drag nobody in there. They come out to feed, but they don’t pull you in. Unless he was fool enough to charge in there alone, he ain’t there, and if he did, he ain’t there neither. You best start prayin’ that he played the coward and ran off. Heck, I don’t know that I’d be right to call that cowardly, neither. Goddesses know that if I had feet, I’d be runnin’ for the hills too.”

Bonooru's light-hearted stab at a joke fell flat on Marin's ears. She swallowed thickly past a lump that was forming in her throat. With one last regretful look at the doorway, she turned and started walking away from the house, following the river. Bonooru made it sound like going inside the building was a death sentence. She refused to believe that Groose was dead, ergo, he could not be in the building.

_So he did run away._

She crushed the thought murderously. Light, why did that hurt so much?!

Bonooru and Pierre watched her pass for a moment in silent surprise before one of them asked, “Well, now where are you going?”

She wasn’t sure who said it. She wasn’t really paying attention anymore. She felt like an old glass jar, hollow and dirty inside, her luster gone, cracks spider-webbing along her surface.

Where was she going? On. She'd started this stupid quest on a selfish whim, and she'd thrown Groose into danger for no good reason. Now she'd either driven him off or else he was…

She was going on. On, to the source of the river. On, to the end of her quest.

On.

Because she had nowhere else to go.


	22. To Bear One's Soul

The stainless steel table was warm and sticky beneath Auru’s sweaty palms.

Across from him sat the man they called Eagus, staring down at him with an inscrutable expression on his face. Auru knew that he was supposed to feel nervous and intimidated by his interrogation officer, but honestly, he just felt tired. His head was in such a fog that a lot of what had been happening over the last couple of hours felt like a dream. So much had happened today, so many life-altering revelations were made, that anything as inconsequential as potential federal crimes held virtually no bearing on his mind. He honestly couldn't even remember what station Eagus held or who he worked for. The only thing on his mind at the moment was Link and the museum.

After a lengthy pause, Eagus finally broke the silence.

“That was an interesting car chase you lead us on.”

Auru looked up at the man in surprise, then barked a gruff laugh.

“Car chase? Is that what you call that? I made it through one intersection before your men had surrounded me.”

“That’s why it was interesting,” Eagus replied, his tone light. “You don’t strike me as a professional getaway driver.”

Auru’s eyebrows rose. “Professional getaway driver? Do those actually exist? I’m afraid you’ve got me pegged all wrong, officer. I’m a history teacher, nothing more.”

It was Eagus’s turn to raise his eyebrows, though he seemed unimpressed.

“A history teacher, huh. An unusual cover, but not a terrible one. I’m not too interested in history right now, though; why don’t you tell me a little more about current events, hmm? Like, why is it that none of my men can enter the Museum of National History, yet that dog you released from your van could?”

Auru shook his head slowly, fighting back a yawn that threatened to crack his jaw in two. In spite of the rather serious situation he was in, he felt a crooked grin growing on his face.

"So that's why I'm here… You honestly think I had something to do with the barrier?"

“Well, you seem to be familiar enough with it to give it a name, and there's the whole ‘dog' thing I mentioned earlier, but even without this evidence, I'd have you locked up regardless, just like the rest of your fellow staff members and students. Even your own Chief of Police is here with us, Auru. You may as well tell me what you know.”

“Tell you what I know?” Auru laughed, feeling very much like he was in a bad crime drama. “What, you think I’m guilty of some crime? I’m afraid you’re in the wrong genre, officer. A barrier is not a name, it is simply a thing that exists in popular fiction. Anyone with eyes and a brain will have called it such. I know nothing of how it came to be, but what I do know of it, and how my dog got through, you will never believe. And as for my students and coworkers, for what reason do you detain us? You have no legal authority to do what you are doing. I’ll answer your questions when I see my lawyer.”

A cruel grin wormed its way across Eagus’s face, and he leaned in close so that his venomous whisper could still be heard loud and clear.

“You won’t be getting a lawyer, Auru, and your fellow Ordonians will be detained for as long as is necessary. The situation we’re facing right now is one of unprecedented severity. We’re dealing with a technology we’ve never seen, the kind that exists only in science-fiction, and as far as the government is concerned, we’re in a national state of emergency. You know something, Auru, I know that you do. Until you tell me what’s going on, you’re being detained as a terrorist. You don’t have any rights.”

Auru blinked slowly, processing this wall of new information before erupting into a fit of uncontrollable laughter.

If Eagus was disturbed by his apparent descent into madness, he didn’t respond. He remained where he was sitting, scowling silently at Auru, waiting for him to finish.

“So an invisible wall gets erected around a museum and the nation dissolves into hysteria. Fine, I can accept that. But you imprison a group of people on a field trip simply because I set my dog loose in a crowd of people? Certainly, detaining me is justifiable, but accusing me and the rest of my school of terrorism? It looks to me like you’re grasping at straws, Eagus. I don’t believe I’ll be in here for very long.”

Eagus’s scowl grew twisted and he slammed his fist on the tabletop, making his coffee jump.

“Don’t play games with me, Auru! I know that this weekend is the anniversary of the Ordon High Massacre! I know that several of these students you brought with you are personally responsible for taking the lives of their captors and in some cases, orchestrating the attack, and that most of those directly involved last year have been reported missing! Did you think I would write that off as a coincidence?! Moreover, Link Hero, the one who killed the lead conspirator at the end of the shooting last year, was arrested last night for theft from the very museum that is currently inaccessible and escaped from his cell last night without a trace. Not only is he friends with the rest of your missing students, but he's also been accused of multiple accounts of kidnapping and, to add a more recent crime to his growing pile, was seen in security cameras stealing the Master Sword from the Sacred Grove. And to top it all off, we find you and your teenage cohorts in possession of the Harp of Ages, stolen this morning from a concert hall. Tell me again that I'm grasping at straws, Auru.”

The old teacher nodded slowly, eying the drops of coffee that had spilled on the smudged metal table before him.

“Hmm… I see… yet none of that explains why you think a group of teenagers was capable of inventing futuristic technology without anyone knowing and would choose to use it to hide in a museum, officer.”

"Well, that's why you're here, isn't it?" Eagus growled, clearly still ruffled from his outburst. “Tell me what you know, Auru. Every moment you wait, lives could be in danger.”

“Oh, I don't doubt that for a second," Auru replied levelly, staring Eagus dead in the eye. “But you won’t believe anything I say, and even if you did it won’t get you into the museum.”

“Try me.” Eagus challenged, meeting Auru’s gaze.

Auru stared at the disheveled officer for a moment, mulling it over, then shrugged.

“Alright, fine. Link is the Hero of Time reincarnate. He and his friends are currently fulfilling their destinies by confronting a great evil and saving the world. Link did not steal the Master Sword, he drew it worthily from its pedestal, and he and his friends are not terrorists; they’re heroes. I don’t know where the barrier came from, but the wolf that I released from my van was Link and he passed through it because it was magical and he was able to trick it. That’s about all I was able to understand.”

Eagus’s dumbfounded expression was easily the most comical thing Auru had seen all day, but he refrained from laughing. He didn’t need to put himself in even hotter water.

Finally, the federal officer broke eye contact. Standing up swiftly, jostling the table and nearly knocking his chair over backward, he stared at Auru as if trying to understand what he was seeing before scoffing and snatching his coffee up off the table and marching towards the door.

“I don’t have time for your games, Auru,” he barked irritably and he pulled the door open and stepped out into the hall. “I’m off to interrogate the students who were with you in the van, and then I’ll be back. You had better have a change of heart by the time I do, or else things won’t go so pleasant for you.”

The door shut firmly behind the departing officer, but Auru had already forgotten all about him. Letting his gaze focus absently on the tabletop, he let his mind drift off to what Link was doing at this very moment. Closing his eyes, he offered a fervent prayer to the Goddess Farore to watch over her Hero. Impossible though the situation may sound, he knew that the legends were true and destiny was playing its game once more… Only this time it wasn’t with a legendary mythical Hero and his wise, noble Princess. Fate was playing with his students, children whom he cared about, and he was impotent to help them.

It didn’t matter that he was being accused of terrorism and that his life as he knew it was over, because if Link failed to face down this nameless evil that had taken his friends hostage, then there wouldn’t be a life to go back to anyway.

Please, Link… Hero of Time… Be safe…

<><><><><><><><><> 

In the list of bizarre, peculiar, or otherwise borderline impossible situations that Aryll had been forced to endure during her short lifespan, being turned into an ethereal ghostly doppelganger of herself was a serious contender for the number one spot. And considering the day she’d had thus far, that was saying something.

The sky overhead was a dull, grey blanket of clouds; not the sort that promised rain, thankfully, but enough to dim what ought to have been the bright mid-afternoon sunlight, casting a shaded pallor over the already dreary day and weighing negatively on her mood. It was a shame, really; the weird canyon-like area they found themselves in was beautiful in a desert-y sort of way.

Columns and spires of rocks jutted up out of the sloping, uneven ground, weathered by the wind and changing color every few feet as they rose from dark brown to vibrant orange to sandy white. She forgot why they did that- something about erosion, or the buildup of different rock sediments over thousands of years, or something. Geology wasn't her forte. Whatever it was, though, it would have looked downright picturesque against a bright blue afternoon sky. The overcast cloud cover only served to drain everything of color, making the majestic rock formations seem almost depressing and bleak.

Looking down at herself, she stifled another groan as she struggled for the hundredth time to make out her individual fingers. She could see all the way through her translucent body to the reddish-brown dirt below her; a terribly uncomfortable sensation, might she add. She didn’t know why she kept looking down at herself every few minutes when she knew what she would find, but a part of her felt vaguely reassured every time she did. It was like she was convincing herself with every nervous glance that what little of her remained was still there.

Behind her, a peal of childish laughter echoed off the rock walls around them, and Aryll turned her ghostly neck to see what was causing the noise.

It was Neri, the little girl she and Colin had sort-of rescued from the demon-goat-swordsman earlier, watching with childlike delight dancing in her navy-blue eyes as Green Colin attempted to juggle with the weird periwinkle boots he’d found in that cave alongside the sword that had split him into four.

They’d taken them along because they were probably magical and might come in handy, only they had proven to be too much for the separate Colins to handle.

Green had put them on earlier in one of his wilder attempts to keep Neri’s spirits up, complained about the tight fit, and had summarily realized that their magical ability was that they allowed the user to run fast. Too fast. He went from Neri’s side to face-planting against a boulder a dozen yards away in record time and was reduced to listening to Aryll's lecture on not playing with strange magical objects while he nursed a nosebleed and tried not to let Neri see his shame. Afterward, she'd grounded the rest of them from wearing the boots until they could prove that they were responsible.

As she watched him from the corner of her eye, it became immediately apparent that Green was a terrible juggler; every time he tried, he either dropped a boot on the ground or accidentally let one smack him in the face, either of which instantly resulted in a renewed peal of Neri’s infectious laughter.

“I wish they would keep it down,” she found herself muttering sullenly, her voice a faint echo as though she were speaking from the bottom of a deep well. A male voice grunted in wordless agreement at her side, and she turned to eye her companion with a pensive frown.

Red Colin was the only one of Colin’s four facets of personality who hadn’t opted to flock around the little girl. She wasn’t sure why, exactly; Red Colin was the personification of all of Colin’s anger and rage, so perhaps he found her near-constant giggling as irritating as Aryll did. She didn’t think that was it, though; every now and then she’d catch him casting a smirk in the quartet’s direction, only to hide it behind a scowl when he noticed Aryll watching.

If she was being completely honest with herself, however, she found that she did prefer Red over the rest of him for more reasons than just because he let her brood in peace. He was the only one who seemed capable of displaying traits that were even somewhat admirable.

Blue did nothing but sulk and stare hopelessly into the distance, Purple jumped in terror at the smallest provocation, and Green… Well, Green Colin was friendly, which she supposed under normal conditions could be considered a positive trait, but his gaiety was so intense and in your face that it grated on her nerves.

Basically, that had been the trek through the canyon up until that point. Green chatting it up with Neri, occasionally making her laugh while Aryll and Red forged the path ahead, keeping an eye out for any signs of the skeletal goat swordsman who’d taken her body away, and Blue and Purple just sort of… tagged along. There were occasional interruptions from roving bands of monsters, which left her watching Red handle the situation with bloody, single-minded ferocity while she grudgingly admitted that if she’d had her hammer she still probably couldn’t have ended the fights as quickly as he did.

Neri’s warm, bubbly voice carried across the dusty terrain to Aryll’s ears once more, drawing her out of her thoughts and back into the present.

“What’s your family like?” Neri chirped inquisitively from her current spot on Green Colin’s shoulders, his hands on her shoes and her hands in his hair.

Green Colin grinned eagerly, ready to answer any question the little girl asked. Apparently, he was just as enamored by her as she was with him. She recognized the look on his face, after all; he’d worn it a few times when he was with her, back before everything had fallen apart.

“It’s pretty great. My dad’s the Chief of Police back in Ordon. He can be kind of serious sometimes, but he’s really nice and really smart, and he does a good job of taking care of everybody. My mom's the nicest lady in the world. She makes the best cookies and likes to sing when she's doing stuff in the house. And I also have a baby brother; he was just born last year, so he doesn't say much, but he's still pretty cute."

The definition was fairly simplistic, but by the wonder and yearning blossoming in Neri’s eyes, he may as well have admitted to being the duke of Holodrum.

“Wow… I wish I had a baby brother. Tatl says having a little brother is the worst, but Tael isn’t so bad… At least they have each other. I don’t have anyone…”

Aryll’s heart lurched painfully in her chest. Goddesses, Neri was the sweetest thing in the world, even if she didn’t seem to like her much. She wanted to do nothing more than rush over and envelope her in a bone-crushing hug, only without any actual arms, that was sort of hard to do. That, and her ghostly body terrified the poor girl. Still, she wished she could do something, say something to comfort her or make her feel better, let her know everything would be ok… but what could you say about _that_?

“Who says you don’t have anyone?” Green asked, angling his head to look up at the little girl on his shoulders, a quizzical expression on his face. “You have me, don’t you?”

“A-and me!” Purple added hastily, looking afraid to be left out.

“I guess you have me, too,” Blue intoned solemnly.

“And you’ve even got Red and Aryll!” Green added, catching his stride with confidence and ease. “See? You’ve got lots of people now. And this trip through… wherever we are? It’s not so bad. Think of it like an adventure, like we’re in the Wizard of Oz. You’re Dorothy, and I’m the Scarecrow, and Purple can be the Cowardly Lion, and Aryll’s the Tin Man-“

“Who’s Blue?” Neri butted in, hardly repressing the eager smile on her face while Aryll frowned to herself self-consciously. Tin Man? Why was she the Tin Man?

“Toto, obviously.”

“Of course I am…”

“And what about Red?”

“Oh yeah…” All four faces turned to examine Red critically, and he did his best to ignore their staring from his position near Aryll’s side.

“He can be… the Wicked Witch of the West.”

Aryll half expected Red to go up like a firework at being compared to an evil old hag, but at the sound of Neri’s bubbly laughter, a grudging smile crept across his face. 

“Ok, that’s not so bad…” Neri finally relented when her laughter had died down, leaning forward and resting her arms on Colin’s head.

“Not so bad?” Green Colin parroted back, looking scandalized. “It’s awesome! What could possibly be better than this?! It’s a real-life adventure!”

Neri shrugged, looking away. “I dunno… Maybe if I knew I didn’t have to go back when we’re done.”

Colin blinked. “You want to stay here?”

She kept her face straight, but Aryll noticed the way her shoulders drew in self-consciously. 

“If I had a nice family like yours waiting for me after… I don’t like the orphanage, Colin. It’s cold and smelly and the bigger kids are mean and take your stuff. You’re lucky you have a brother even if he’s a baby. I wish I had a brother…”

Silence engulfed the traveling party for a moment as the weight of Neri’s words pressed down on all of them.

Colin had tried to distract her, but there wasn’t anything they could do or say that would change the fact that Neri was an orphan and had no family of her own. What a terribly lonely life she must have. There were days where Aryll thought she must be the unluckiest girl in the world- losing her parents, being involved in the shooting, this stupid museum thing, getting her body stolen… it was pretty awful, sure, no doubt about that, but at least she’d always had Link and Granny there when she got home. To not have even that… She didn’t think she’d be able to stand it.

“Well… How about I be your brother?” Green suggested suddenly, and Aryll’s train of thought came to a screeching halt.

Neri blinked in surprise.

“W-what?”

“Yeah. You said you wanted a brother, right? Well hey, you’ve got me right here. I’ll be your big brother. I know it’s not as cool as having a little brother you can boss around, but I have a sword, and- hey! If you pick me, you get four brothers for the price of one! It’s a sweet deal, you can’t lose!”

The other two Colins flanked the duo on either side, grinning up at Neri expectantly, completely breaking character, and Aryll watched as a small blush flashed its way across her cheeks.

“Um… Colin, you… You don’t have to…”

“But what if I want to?” he asked cheekily, and she flushed even harder.

“But I… I mean, I want a _real_ brother-“

“Did I say I was going to be your fake brother?” Colin asked, and when Neri merely bit her lip and didn’t answer, he sighed and shook his head. “Neri, being a brother or sister doesn’t mean you’re related. It means you watch out for each other, you help each other out, and even though sometimes you drive each other crazy… well, you care about each other. Your big brother is the guy who’s always got your back, no matter what. Little sisters do that too. It’s a lot of responsibility. Do you think you can handle a responsibility like that?”

“I don’t know…” she whispered, sounding surprisingly fragile, and Colin flashed her a confident smile.

"Don't worry. I'll be there to help you out. Whenever you need me, I'll be right here, ok? Even after all of this is done. Me and Aryll are going to get you out of here safe and sound, and then afterward, once I’ve proven what a cool big brother I am, I’ll make sure you don’t forget me. You can call me whenever you want, I’ll write you letters, I’ll come up to Castleton to see you. I’ll even bring my parents so they can meet you too, and who knows? Maybe I’ll be your big brother for real.”

Neri’s body had gone completely stiff, her eyes wide and glassy as she stared down at the hair of the boy who was offering her the world without a thought of the consequences if he couldn’t deliver. At their side, Purple’s mouth twitched, but he said nothing.

“So? What do you say? Big Brother Colin?”

“Well…” Her lips trembled, and a fledgling emotion sparked to life in her eyes, guttering like the tiny flame of a candle; hope. “O-ok! Yeah!”

“Woohoo!” Green Colin shouted triumphantly, whipping the smaller girl off his shoulders and twirling her around, making her laugh. The other two Colins trailed along with dopey smiles on their faces.

“He shouldn’t do that,” Aryll muttered darkly, not realizing she’d spoken aloud until Red’s gaze jerked in her direction and an unsettling frown etched its way across his face.

“Do what?”

“That. Lead her on, make her promises he can’t keep. It’s irresponsible, and…  and cruel.”

Something dark flickered across his face and he turned to face her head-on.

“What are you talking about?”

“You know full well what I’m talking about,” Aryll snapped, meeting his glare without flinching, for once grateful for her ghostly form, as it let her float up and tower over him imposingly. “What you’re doing over there, telling Neri you can be her new brother. You can’t make promises like that, Colin! Where do you get off, building up false hopes in some poor little orphan girl’s head about a family and a future? She needs a _real_ family, not empty promises from a boy she may never see again. Unless you somehow think you’re being serious, which is just naïve. What makes you think your parents will be suddenly ok with adopting some random little girl?”

“I’ll thank you not to go making assumptions about my family, Aryll,” Red snarled, not bothering to hide an ounce of his disgust. His eyes looked like cold scraps of metal. “You don’t have the first idea what my parents may or may not do, so why don’t you butt out of other people’s business?”

“That girl is my business,” Aryll grated, her voice echoing hollowly from whatever dimensional plane she was currently residing in. “Keeping her safe is my business, and if that includes safe from a broken heart, so be it. I really ought to go over there and warn her not to trust you and your promises. You’re only good for breaking them-“

“Oh, get over yourself,” Red scoffed disparagingly, turning his scowl forward and subconsciously tightening the grip on his blade, speeding up his walk as though to get away from her. “That’s unfair and untrue.”

“Is it?” she called out, hastening after him through the air. “So you’re going to pretend like this whole ‘doting big brother’ ploy you’re pulling here isn’t just another cheap excuse to try to play the hero?”

“Excuse me?!” Colin exclaimed, stopping in his tracks, his entire body going rigid.

“You heard me!” she spat, squaring herself off in front of him and meeting his gaze once again, noticing that for the first time he was wearing an expression other than blind rage, hatred, or annoyance. A miracle in and of itself, really; for the moment, he merely looked stunned.

“Ever since last year you’ve been pulling stunt after stunt, trying to trick us all into thinking you’re some nice, heroic guy, but don’t think I’m falling for it, Colin, now or ever. You may have fooled the others into thinking you’ve changed, but I see right through you. You’re a self-serving little rat and you always have been, and I’m going to put a stop to what you’re doing to Neri before you cause her any more pain.”

A still, small voice in the back of her mind that she’d come to recognize as her conscience whispered something to her, trying to warn her she was pushing too far, but she beat the voice down as she turned away from Colin’s stunned expression and continued on along the uneven dusty plain.

She didn’t have time for guilt or pity, especially not for him of all people. It was his fault she treated him this way; his fault she was there in the desert, his fault she’d lost her body, his fault ultimately that she couldn’t trust him. If he didn’t always insist upon making things so difficult…!

Without warning, Red had flung himself in front of her, blocking her path, and when she glanced up at his face and prepared to tell him to get out of her way before she floated through him, she found herself momentarily speechless.

“Is that honestly…?” he rasped out, his voice guttering out before he could finish his sentence. Swallowing thickly, he jerked his head as if to clear his thoughts and tried again. “Is that really what you think? That I’d stoop so low as to toy with a little girl’s emotions as part of some sick game?”

“What am I supposed to think, Colin?” Aryll exclaimed, exasperated, and was surprised to hear an unintentional note of pleading in her voice. “What, when every time I turn around you’re trying some other new and stupid thing to try to get back into my good graces? It’s passed the point of ridiculous and turned into something scary! Look at tonight- you tried to fight that giant spider alone, you volunteered for this stupid quest, you grabbed the sword when I told you to take Neri and run… Your head isn’t in the right place, and I’m-!”

She almost said ‘I’m worried about you’, but she was trying to set him straight, not give him false hope that she cared.

Because she didn’t.

Care, that is.

“…I’m not going to let you turn that little girl into your next crazy plan,” she finished heavily, not meeting his eyes. “Please stop. I don’t need a hero, and I don’t want one. I’m never going to take you back, so just… stop.”

She’d said those words a thousand times before over the past year, but something about this moment made them feel more solid than they ever had before. More final. They filled the expanse of air between them like a lump of solid lead, and Aryll almost felt like she’d been trapped within it, unsure where to go or what to say from this point forward.

Colin, however, was not gripped by the same compunctions, it seemed. Blinking several times, his red-rimmed scowl suddenly deepened unexpectedly and he took a provocative step forward.

“…Is that seriously what you think this is about?”

Aryll blinked and almost made to step back from the feral gaze in his eyes but at the last moment stiffened her spine (metaphorically, of course; she didn’t have a spine either) and held her ground.

“You really think I’ve been trying so hard to change your opinion of me because _I want you back_?”

There was an unexpected amount of condescension in his words that drew her up short; both because she wasn’t expecting it coming from him of all people, and also because… well, for whatever reason, the implication stung. In a distracted sort of way, it occurred to her that she and Red hadn’t been moving for a while and the others must have noticed by now, but she waved the thought off.

“Obviously,” she rebutted somewhat weakly, casting around inside herself for the fire she’d been filled with only moments before. “Though I guess this is the moment where you try to pretend like you don’t care.”

A wild, insane sort of laugh tore itself from Colin's throat, and for the first time, Aryll realized just how close to breaking this boy was. "Care? Care?! Of course I care! I want… no, I _need_ for you to see me as a hero, to know that I’ve changed! It’s all I can think about, all that keeps me going at times, it’s become the sole reason I exist! But not because _I want you back_.”

There was such scathing derision in those words that she nearly drew back her fist and punched him. She caught herself just in time, however; it wouldn't have worked anyway and would have just made her look silly.

“So then why?” she challenged, feeling her ire starting to rise back up again. “You spent all this time acting like I’m some kind of prize you can win for pulling stupid stunts- if you’re not doing it because you think you can win me back, then why does it matter?”

“Because I need you to forgive me!” he bellowed hoarsely, his hands tearing wildly at his hair. From behind her, she was vaguely aware of the sound of approaching footsteps and she heard another Colin’s voice (probably Green) calling out hesitantly, “Um… Guys…?”

But she ignored him. Her focus was riveted on the whirlwind of confusing teenage angst personified before her, and even though her internal voice of logic and reason was telling her to back down and move along because there were more important things to worry about at the moment, the emotional part of her that still yearned for her to avenge herself on the boy who’d broken her heart a year ago had taken the reigns and was raring to take this argument wherever Colin wanted to go.

“ _Forgive you_?” she spat, putting in the same amount of derision he’d used earlier and vindictively enjoying the way it made his pain ripple across his face. She’d clenched her fists and was once again grateful for her ghostly body, because were she in her frail human form, she was certain she'd be quaking just as much as he was. 

“If that’s what you’re going for, Colin, then you might as well give up now. Goddesses, what…? You really expect me to just forget what you did last year? Forget the way you betrayed us to Ganondorf? Forget the way you traded away my brother - my only family! - to a homicidal maniac?! No! _Never!_ I will never forgive you, not after what you did, not after you betrayed my trust like that. There is no forgiveness in the world for people like you.”

She half expected him to crumple to the floor in despair, given his temperament over the last year, but she'd forgotten who she was dealing with. This wasn't Colin- this was Red Colin, the embodiment of regular Colin's hatred and rage. The normal sorrow and depression that defined him over the last year were trapped within his blue form. Her words still affected him- she could almost see something in his eyes flicker and die when she pronounced his sentence, but rather than huddle inwards and retreat to lick his wounds, he actually stood up straighter and squared his shoulders, meeting her gaze dead-on.

“So what about Sheik?” he asked, his voice surprisingly more composed than it had been a moment earlier, harder and as unyielding as stone, and she hesitated, suddenly unsure where this was going.

“What about Sheik?”

“There’s no forgiveness in the world for people like me, yet after everything Sheik did, you just let him move into your house and treat him like a new brother?”

“Don’t give me that, Colin. You and Sheik are completely different-!”

“I know,” he cut in, stepping closer, and the anger was burning hot and fierce in his eyes now. “Unlike me, Sheik was actually responsible for a large part of what happened last year. He helped plan the shooting, he was working alongside Ganondorf from the beginning, he traded Link’s life away long before any of us even knew we were in danger. Link’s, and yours, and everyone you care about: Malon and Saria and Mido and Zelda, even me, back when you cared about me. All of your friends, and all of your classmates, and hundreds of students and teachers you didn’t even know… but two seconds after apologizing, he’s forgiven, just like that, and everything’s just fine?”

Admittedly, he’d caught her off-guard with this new angle of attack, but she rallied valiantly.

“Don’t try to hide what you did by digging up Sheik’s past-!”

“I’m not!” Colin snapped. “Sheik worked really hard to put his life back together, he’s earned his forgiveness, I’m not denying that. Now stop evading my question - why does he get forgiven and I don’t? Why does he get the chance to start over and I’m forced to live with what I did for the rest of my life?”

Aryll didn’t have a heart to hammer in her chest, yet somehow, she could feel the phantom impression of it rattling against her ribcage.

This… This was absurd. Of course she forgave Sheik without question; Sheik was practically her brother and he’d nearly died trying to set everything straight. It was only fair that she forgave him, he’d been through so much, he was working so hard... Colin wasn’t the same, Colin couldn’t understand… So why did she feel like she was making up excuses?

“Sheik had extenuating circumstances! He wasn’t in a right state of mind, his mother had just died-!”

“And I had a _gun_ pointed at my _head!_ ” Colin roared, stepping even closer, violating her personal space. “A gun, Aryll! I had a choice! Die right there, useless, or try and save someone! What else would you have me do?! What would you have done, if it was you?! If you could have saved Link?!”

Her first instinct was to step away from Colin and his accusations and his wild eyes, but the fiery part of her that saw her through the darkest times in her life seized control of her body and made her move closer, so she and Colin were barely inches apart.

“Don’t act like that’s what this is about!” she shouted, the unexpected emotion in her words sounding odd as it echoed out of her. “You and Sheik are completely different! He didn’t trade away my brother’s life for mine right in front of my face!”

“No, he did a lot worse! And even though I did just as much as he did in trying to save the school and put everything right again, he gets forgiven without question and I’m told to go and rot in a hole! Everyone else has forgiven me - the police, the school, the students, even Link- Din, Link never even _blamed_ me! It’s only you who won’t let this go! What makes him so much better than me?!”

“Sheik wasn’t my boyfriend!” Aryll cried, suddenly feeling like some wall she hadn’t known she’d built up inside of her had shattered. “I didn’t give my heart to him! I didn’t expect as much from him! There is nothing Sheik can ever do that would amount to what you did because Sheik will never mean as much to me as you! No one, not Sheik or even Ganondorf, could ever hurt me the way you did!”

She hadn’t meant to say that. She hadn’t meant to ever admit to him how much power he really had over her back in those days, if only because she was so sick of being weak all the time, of being afraid, of feeling useless. That’s why she’d taken to her hammer so fully, why she’d thrown herself head-first into fights here in this stupid museum, or into sports over the last school year, to take her mind off of how terrified she felt and how weak she knew she really was deep down. She was every bit as broken as the rest of her friends, as this pitiful boy in front of her, but she didn’t want anyone to know.

“Well, I guess we have that in common,” Colin croaked, and Aryll recoiled, averting her gaze as she struggled to reorganize her thoughts and take back control of the argument.

Looking away was a mistake, however; her gaze landed on the group standing uncomfortably off to the side and she felt anger and embarrassment wash over her as she realized they’d had an audience.

Green stood slightly apart from the others, a half-step towards them, one arm half-raised. When she met his gaze, she expected to see him flash an uncomfortable smile in an attempt to lighten the mood, like he usually did, but instead he quickly looked away and focused instead on Red, silently beckoning him to join them.

The will to continue fighting was suddenly gone and Aryll felt herself sag internally. She was so tired… tired of all the nonsense with Colin. At this point, she was almost ready to just move on and pretend like she never knew him if that meant it would bring them peace.

“So that’s it then? We done?” she muttered, floating back and turning her gaze away from the group, staring vacantly off at the horizon.

“No.”

Aryll blinked and turned back to face Red Colin, surprise and uneasiness bubbling up inside.

“No?”

“Red, come on…” Green called softly from the sidelines.

“No, we’re not done yet,” Red repeated, his eyes boring into Aryll’s. “There’s something else I need to say.”

She didn’t want to deal with this, not right now, not ever, really. She was tired of the drama. Let him say whatever he needed to say, and let it be over…

“Fine.”

“Red-“

“No!” he shouted, slashing his sword angrily at his other selves, meeting their stony gazes with a challenging one of his own. “The rest of you have always held me back from saying this, but now that we’re separated, there’s nothing to stop me, and this needs to be said!”

When none of the others offered further protest, he turned his burning eyes back on Aryll. Something was different about them; a weight inside them was gone, a hollowness that they’d carried ever since the shooting last year… but why?

“I hate you.”

Silence reigned in the valley. Aryll said nothing.

“What you did to me… What you’ve been doing to me for the past year… is despicable. When you threw me away like garbage, I lost everything. You, my friends, my self-respect, my happiness… My life has become this… this pit, this black hole, swallowing everything until nothing is left but this void, this emptiness… And this whole time, I thought that you were the key to my salvation. I somehow deluded myself into thinking that if I could prove to you that I’d changed, that I wasn’t the coward you claimed I was, that you would forgive me and I could fill this hole inside me… But I can’t, can I? You can’t fix me. You can’t even fix yourself. You’re not the answer I’ve been making you out to be all this time, you’re just another sad, selfish little girl. Another terrible person, just like me. But you know what? You’re not the reason I’ve been so broken up, either.

“I am. I’m the one who chose to place you on that pedestal. I’m the one who chose to believe that I couldn’t be anything without your approval. But that was never true, was it? The only reason you’ve been able to ruin me like this every day is because I chose to let you. Not anymore, Aryll. I’m sick of feeling empty, I’m sick of living in the dark. I’m sick of you telling me that I’m worthless, and above all, I’m sick of believing it. So you’ll never forgive me for what happened last year? That’s fine. I have my own friends now, I have a family that loves me. I don’t need you. I don’t need your forgiveness. And to be honest… I don’t think I can ever forgive you for what you’ve done either.”

A gust of wind tugged at his hair, still messy from where he’d been pulling at it earlier, but her attention was focused on his eyes.

The ice was gone. So was the rage. He looked… normal. More normal than she’d seen him look in ages.

He looked away and a half-smile tugged its way across his face, wistful and sad, and she almost thought she saw him stand a little straighter.

“…Now we’re done.”

Neri suddenly detached herself from Purple’s hand and sprinted to Red’s side in a flash, launching herself at him and wrapping him in a tight hug. Surprise flickered across his face for a moment only to be replaced a surprisingly tender smile, made all the more bizarre as it was coming from the Red Colin. The gentleness she could see in his eyes sparked nostalgic memories within her from older days when that used to be his normal expression, the look that she’d considered uniquely his, before everything had fallen apart.

Ruffling her hair, he murmured a soft, “Thanks, Neri,” and she sent him a watery smile through crooked glasses.

Finally, Purple cleared his throat and the spell was broken. Nodding, Red detached Neri’s arms slowly and sent her a bracing grin, one that was decidedly un-Red-like, and declared in a loud voice, "Right. C'mon, guys, we've wasted enough time. Let's go get Aryll's body back and get out of here."

The others nodded, and with Neri’s hand still held in his own, Red turned and joined his other selves, the group heading on as one.

Something was different now; Green wasn’t eagerly hurrying ahead, Purple wasn’t casting nervous glances in every direction, Blue wasn’t dragging his steps. The four walked as one, Neri kept protectively between them, and as she watched their backs begin drawing away she was hit with the unmistakable truth that she was being left behind. Not just physically; Colin was actually moving on.

After another moment, Aryll followed.


	23. Paper Faces

The sound of Kafei’s bare feet padding on the cold tiled flooring was surprisingly loud in the otherwise empty atrium. Not another noise could be heard save for the quiet, omnipresent droning of the air conditioning that tousled his hair every few feet from evenly-spaced overhead air vents.

To say that he was fed up with wandering around the museum in the dark following the mercurial whims of a masked monster was an understatement. He was hungry, barefoot, tired and cold. And he was really frustrated with how short his legs were in this child’s body.

The masked boy’s most recent taunt was particularly frustrating for Kafei, especially because he knew he’d been goaded into it. Then again, what else was he supposed to do? If he ever wanted his life back, if he ever wanted to see his family or Anju again, to have a future together, he needed to be an adult again. And to do that, apparently, he needed to play into this sick kid’s game.

Unlike before, where they’d been given a confusing riddle and a direct task, this time, the masked boy had only said that someone needed saving and he was being sent to do it. That, and something about a sword.

Not exactly helpful, but then, maybe coming up with all those riddles was hard. He was just a kid after all. Maybe he’d cut him some slack.

Rounding a corner, Kafei found himself entering a section of the museum that he recognized from the day before.

It was the room talking about the old temples. Most of them, he knew, didn’t really exist anymore; the most archaeologists had found were repeated mentions in old texts and some foundations for what might have been. The room itself wasn’t very large but had multiple large artistic renderings of what the temples may have looked like as well as informational placards describing what religious life looked like in the Hylian alliance back in the day.

The most interesting thing in the room, however, was located right in the center.

It looked to be a broken segment of a wall, or perhaps a fragment of a statue. Whatever it was, it was large and old and carved from stone, and on its face was painted an old and weathered image.

Most of the symbols contained on the mural’s face were faded and hard to make out where they weren’t obscured completely by cracks or fissures in the stone’s pitted face, yet the central image of the stone was still fairly easy to make out.

In the middle was the Triforce, three triangles of faded gold, surrounded by nine different colored circles. Six of these circles surrounded the Triforce, while the other three were set up like points in a larger triangle that encompassed the other six and the Triforce as a whole.   
  
None of that is what caught Kafei’s attention, however; he’d seen this all yesterday and hadn’t been impressed. Compared to the other displays, this one was kind of boring. What had him staring at the broken slab of stone now, however, was the fact that some of the circles surrounding the Triforce were glowing.

It was unmistakable. The three outer circles, the ones that comprised the larger triangle, were all illuminated by a bright, steady light as though there were LEDs within the stone. The topmost was periwinkle, and the bottom two were earthy brown and cloudy white. He couldn't make out the symbols on the circles any longer, as they'd long since faded away, but the different colors alone had to mean something, right?

The central six circles were the most interesting because, unlike the outer three, the glow these circles emitted was mostly feeble and week, as though not enough power were being extended to them. Well, almost; there were two exceptions. One of the circles was glowing a deep violet just as strongly as the outer three, which made the faint red, blue, yellow, and green circles seem even more pitiful in comparison. The final circle wasn’t glowing at all.

Before today, he would have written this off as faulty wiring. Clearly, there was something wrong with the circuitry contained within the stone that was causing the lights not to illuminate properly. However, he had been in this room yesterday with Anju. He remembered seeing this stone. None of the circles had been glowing then.

Was this magic? If so, to what purpose? Why waste time making little circles on a piece of stone glow, and why were some of them weaker than others? Was their magical circuitry failing? Was magical circuitry even a thing?

Something giggled behind him.

Thoughts filled with images of the impish boy with the cursed mask and the terrors he’d put him and his friends through that night, Kafei whirled around, nearly tripping over his cape, his broken sword brought to bare as though he were going to stab wildly at whatever was behind him.

Only, it wasn’t the masked boy.

Well, that’s not exactly true; it was a boy, and he was in a mask, but it was not the one with Majora’s Mask who had cursed him and turned him into a child.

This boy was of a height with Kafei, with plain white pants and a white t-shirt. From what he could see of the back of his head, he had neatly-combed reddish-orange hair, but his face was obscured behind a mask of pure white. A mask with a familiar design on the front. The traditional wedding mask of Termina.

Kafei hesitated.

“…Who are you?”

The boy said nothing for a moment, merely examining him, though the wedding mask didn’t have any eyeholes to speak of.

Feeling his skin begin to crawl, Kafei cleared his throat and tried again, this time a little louder.

“Hey! Kid! Who are you? Is this part of that masked freak’s ‘test’ or what?”

Slowly, he raised a solitary hand and pointed over Kafei’s shoulder towards the mural.

“Time grows short.”

His voice was low and monotone, but something about it was oddly familiar, tugging at the back of Kafei’s memory.

“Time?” Kafei repeated dumbly. “I don’t- What time? Do I have a time limit?”

“It will be upon us soon. The others are well on their way, but you are straggling. You must hurry, or all will be lost.”

“What are you talking about?! What’s going to happen? What does any of this have to do with the masked boy’s test?”

“Everything,” the child answered. “Everything. Can you not see? But then, you have hidden yourself behind this mask… This is troubling. If destiny is to be met, if the boy is to be saved, Calamity averted, you must find a way to shed your mask and reveal yourself, and soon. You are needed.”

Kafei blinked several times, then shook his head, completely lost.

“Look, can you, like… make sense? The masked kid said I could get my body back if I came this way, but if you’re not him, and you’re not part of his… test, or whatever, then you’re just in my way.”

“Your test is already begun,” the boy responded just as Kafei turned to walk away. “The light that yet is dim must begin to glow. The child in the dark must be saved. The Seven need their Spirit.”

“What are you-?”

But even as Kafei turned back to face the boy in the mask, the world around him shifted.

Gone was the dim museum room, the pitted, glowing stone, the cold breeze of conditioned air.

In its place were coarse desert sands, the gentle light of the rising sun, and unmistakable arid heat.

Oh, Goddesses, not again.

Fingers tightening around the handle of his sword, he struggled to keep down his rising anger and frustration.

He knew this was going to happen… He knew… He had let the masked boy sucker him into it. But if he made it through, one last time… if he did it right, if he survived, if the brat kept his promise…

If…

The wind whipped at his cape, spraying his bare legs with stinging flecks of sand. He was in an… alcove of some kind. Steep canyon walls rose up almost all the way around him save for directly ahead, where the formed a sort of hallway that led back out into the desert proper.

More interesting, however, was what else was in the alcove with him.

Six statues, each easily two or three stories tall; massive monuments carved from dark canyon stone. Six women, each holding a heavy sword buried point-first into the dirt. They stood in a circle around him, backs to the canyon, as though each were a magistrate and he the criminal on trial.

At their feet sat six pedestals. Five of them housed clear, shining orbs, roughly the size of bowling balls, yellow, green, red, blue, and violet. The sixth statue seemed to be missing her orb.

Yellow, green, red, blue, and violet…

Without warning, a cry rent the air.

“There! I see him, captain!”

“Seize him at once!”

Figures were charging into the alcove. Women, tall and muscular, with bright red hair and dark desert skin, brandishing spears.

Kafei panicked and tried to run, but he was trapped in the alcove with no avenue of escape. The warriors were closing in on him, the statues gazing down in judgment, and Kafei, confused, frightened, tried to turn and jump, hoping his cape would carry him high enough to escape.

Something hit his ankles, tangling around his legs, tripping him and sending him crashing face-first into the sand.

The warrior women converged around him, letting out ululating shouts of victory as they hauled him to his feet.

* * *

The world outside Hyrule Castle was like nothing Link had ever seen.

The hills and woodlands were immaculate and serene, the air unbelievably clear and crisp, the sun shining resplendently overhead with the full radiance of spring. Don’t misunderstand, Link had spent quite a lot of his childhood running around the woods with his little sister, but there was something about this place… the absence of people, of technology and factories and pollution, that made everything seem so much more alive.

He’d left the building as soon as possible, exiting the ruins of Hyrule Castle, majestic even in its decay, and had set out loping across the grassy fields towards the not-so-distant mountains at Fi’s behest. Normally a trip like this would have taken him the better part of the day, but with the speed and endurance of a wolf at his command, he found himself breaching the forest at the foot of the mountains in no time.

Birds called overhead, squirrels chattered in their trees, the occasional rabbit scrambled to hide in the underbrush as Link barreled past them, weaving deftly through the foliage, paying them no mind. It wasn't long before the woods gave way to mountainous countryside and he began traveling up a rather rugged slope. For a brief moment, the castle could be seen in the distance, framed atop a hill as the sun in the sky marked midafternoon, but then vanished from sight as Link moved into the shadow of a large hill.

Fi had mentioned that the Great Fairy was somewhere up ahead, nestled into the valley of one of these mountains. She had said it wasn’t far, but he supposed distance was relative. What did far mean to a sword spirit, anyway? She never had to walk anywhere, it was always Link who carried her around.

He’d been running for the better part of an hour now and had yet to see anything that resembled a fairy. What did the Great Fairy look like, anyway? Children’s shows had taught him they were like tiny people with weird butterfly wings and antennas and tiny wands… or were those pixies? Was there a difference?

The breeze changed directions and a bitter smell caught his nose.

Monsters.

He spotted them as he came upon a small valley nestled in between the heights of the mountains. They were small and stumpy, maybe half the height of an adult human with green, sickly skin covered by swaths of crude leather and animal pelts. Their short, stubby legs stood in sharp contrast to their ludicrously long arms, their hands wrapped in scraps of fabric and nearly touching the ground.

The monsters had settled themselves down in what looked like the remains of an old town or outpost. There weren’t that many houses, maybe fifteen or so, each with rotting wooden paneling and broken, dirty windows, the bricks from their chimneys falling apart. Obviously, this place had been abandoned years ago, and now resembled a ghost town from a movie about the old west.

Atop the roofs and through the dusty streets, the monsters kept silent vigil, obviously patrolling though against what he didn’t know; who attacked monsters? Other monsters? And he’d never known monsters to be so… orderly.

Another profusion of light signaled that Fi had once again deigned to make an appearance.

“Master, I sense the presence of the Great Fairy just beyond this monster camp.”

Link withheld a sigh. Of course the Great Fairy would be behind a group full of these demonic aberrations. He should have known this wouldn’t be easy…

“The rock face on either side of the valley is too steep to climb; your only option is to sneak through the camp. The bulbins we see before us are not strong individually, however they attack in large numbers. It is unadvisable that you take them head-on. Perhaps it would be best for you to try to sneak your way through them.”

Sneak his way through a town full of weird goblin monsters. Great. Ok. Not a problem.

Fi disappeared without saying anything else useful, leaving Link with nothing better to do but settle his nerves and move forward. The longer he waited, the longer he stayed a wolf, the longer his friends were in danger, and the longer Tatl would have to wait before he rescued her. He needed to get this over with quickly. Taking a deep breath through his wet, black nose, Link steeled himself and prepared to surge forward.

Right as Link was gearing himself up psychologically for a battle that was liable to be the death of him, the sound of hurried footsteps approaching from behind caught his ears.

A feral snarl graced his lips as Link spun around, hackles raised. The wind was blowing from behind his back, so he didn’t catch the scent, but it didn’t matter. He’d simply have to end it quickly before it alerted its boss on the bridge to his presence.

As the rapid footsteps grew nearer, something twinged at the back of Link’s mind. Those didn’t sound like they belonged to a stumpy-legged monster… They actually sounded… human…

A figure emerged from around the mountain wall, her clothing mussed and dirty, her chest heaving as she panted from the exertion of her run, and as their eyes met Link felt his jaw drop in what must surely be taken as comical shock.

There, standing in front of him, was his best friend Midna Twili.

She looked completely ragged. Her tank-top and jean shorts were scuffed and torn, and various bits of her pale legs and arms were covered in smudges of mud and soot. Even her face was a little dirty, or the part of it he could see at least; she was wearing what looked to be some sort of stone crown with weird horns on the front, obscuring her right eye, her hair in a ponytail that stuck out the back. She could still see perfectly fine out of her left eye, however, and when her gaze landed on Link her pupil bulged in fear.

Well… This was unexpected. He’d known his friends were here, and he’d planned on finding and saving them eventually, he just… hadn’t counted on one of them finding him first. Especially not while he was still a wolf. But now what did he do? He didn’t want Midna wandering off on her own, it was dangerous here, but he couldn’t exactly communicate that sentiment to her without being able to speak…

Midna slowly raised her right hand in a placating sort of way as she began backing away slowly, her left hand tightening around a purple messenger bag that he only now realized she was wearing, her one free ruby iris fixated firmly on Link’s face.

“Ok…” she breathed gently, taking slow, hesitant steps backward, apparently trying not to startle the wild creature she'd just bumped into. "Nice doggy… Good doggy… Midna’s just gonna walk away now, and… you’ll forget you ever saw her…”

In spite of everything that had happened that day, Link felt like laughing. She was afraid of him? That was cute. He’d need to remember this for future blackmailing purposes. The great and terrible Midna Twili, scared of a stray dog… if only she knew it was really him, she’d die of embarrassment.

Maybe it was for the best that she went away for now. If he was lucky Midna wouldn’t go too far and he’d be able to find her relatively quickly.

Midna had almost made it back around the corner that she’d appeared from when her eye jerked away from Link’s face and settled on the sword strapped to his back with a disconcerted frown. For a quiet moment she let her eyes dance back and forth between the sword and Link’s confused gaze before muttering under her breath, “Is that… the Master Sword?”

Link’s eyes widened with surprise. Well now, he was impressed; maybe Auru’s trip had been good for something after all. Were it not for the fact that she’d been able to touch it the day before, he highly doubted Midna would have ever recognized the blade for what it was. He could scarcely imagine what was going through her mind right now; a wolf with the Master Sword strapped to his back. Absurd…

“…Link?”

In his stupefied state, he neglected to answer her. After a pause, she tried again, this time sounding surer.

“Link? Is that… Is that you?”

Rigidly, he forced himself to swallow back his shock and nod.

Midna let out a squeal of uncharacteristic joy and launched herself at her friend, wrapping her arms around his hairy neck and burying her face in his fur.

“Oh Din, I knew it! I knew it was you! I could feel something pulling at me for a while now and I just knew-! But how did you get here?! I thought you were in jail! And how are you a dog?! I mean, don’t get me wrong, I think you’re a lot cuter in this form- Zelda would agree, I think you should stay this way forever, but-“

The duo’s bizarre reunion was cut abruptly short by the presence of Fi once again erupting out of Link’s word without warning, causing Midna to release Link and fling herself backward with an undignified shriek.

Link couldn’t help the raspy chuckle that escaped from his throat at the sight of Midna’s slack-jawed look of terror. Well, Fi could be a little tough to get used to, it was true, but this one moment made all of her strangeness worthwhile.

“Master,” the spirit of the Master Sword began, as always in a flat, emotionless voice, “the magical energy emanating from the relic on the girl’s head matches that of the stone you used to transform yourself into a wolf. I believe they are identical.”

Link cocked his head in confusion.

Midna was laying on her back, rapidly looking back and forth from Fi to Link, her face pale. Licking her lips, she pointed a shaky finger at Fi and demanded, “W-who are you? Where did you come from?!”

Fi didn’t answer. Apparently, she had said all that she intended to. That or she only responded to Link. That would make sense, he supposed; she was his sword. Really unhelpful, though- she could have been his interpreter. He missed Tatl now more than ever.

“Link?” Midna tried, shooting Link a terrified look. “What is she talking about? What stone?”

Well great, how exactly did he answer that? He could try writing it out on the ground with his paw, but that sounded so exhausting… There had to be an easier way to go about this.

Her eye widened momentarily, and she blurted out a hasty, “Oh, wait!”

And just as suddenly, her eyes were closed, a look of intense concentration on her face. Baffled, Link watched as she slowly raised her hand in his direction…

Her eye snapped back open and focused on Link with a look of surprising understanding. “So that’s what I was feeling earlier... This thing, the stone that turned you into a dog, it’s made from shadow magic. I could sense it from across the museum.”

Whoa, whoa, whoa… Midna could sense shadow magic? Since when?! And now that he thought about it, aside from her terrified scream when Fi burst into existence, she seemed to be taking this whole ‘magic is real, your best friend is a wolf’ thing amazingly well. What exactly had been going on with his friends since he was arrested? He felt lost… and a little cheated that he had missed out on it all.

Her lips pursed in confusion as she stared intently at her friend. At his side, Fi apparently decided she was no longer necessary and vanished back into his sword.

Coward.

“So if this rock turned you into a dog… can you not just, like, change back?”

Link shook his head gruffly, grateful at least that the conversation was still moving on in spite of his obvious speech impediment.

“You’re stuck like this?”

Link nodded.

“What, like forever, or…?”

He shook his head again, trying to display a look of confidence through his canine gaze.

He wasn’t trapped forever; he had a plan to get back into his original body and then once again go about saving the world. He wasn’t really sure if he got the message across or not, but regardless, it would seem that Midna was out of yes-or-no questions to ask.

She bit her lip, a pensive frown on her face. There was something odd about the way she was staring at him, as though she were trying to make up her mind about something, carefully weighing her options...

Finally, in a guarded voice, she asked, "…what if I try?"

Link cocked his head to the side, confused. What if she tries… what? To turn him back to normal? How in the world was she going to do that?

She seemed to correctly interpret his hesitation as confusion and began explaining.

“See, it’s like… When I was trapped with Groose in Clock Town I found the Book of Mudora, and it told me a lot of things about magic, and… Well, me and Kafei found this thing called the Fused Shadow- it’s what I’ve got here on my head, the rest of it is in my bag here- and I can use it to do magic! Well… Sorta. I’m not a hundred percent sure what I’m doing yet, but… Well, I mean it’s worth a shot, right?”

She explained this all while nervously gesticulating with her hands and avoiding eye-contact, her cheeks growing a little pink as if the concept of being able to perform magic was somehow embarrassing. By the time she’d finished her explanation and finally lifted her eyes to meet his gaze, he was frantically shaking his head back and forth.

He was grateful and all that she cared enough to try, but she wasn’t exactly instilling confidence with her hesitation. Magic was weird; one wrong move and she could turn his skin inside-out or change him into a bunny. He liked his chances better with the Great Fairy across the bridge.

Midna, however, didn’t seem too enthused that Link wasn’t all about her practicing her magic on him.

Flushing again, though this time with anger, she fixed him with a piercing glare and snarled, “Oh come on, Link, stop being such a wuss! Look, I know you’re the Hero of Time- oh yeah, I found out, and I’m going to deal with you about keeping that a secret later- but look, I know that there’s something serious going on here, and well… I dunno, maybe its destiny that led me here to find you! Maybe I’m supposed to be able to help you out! You have to at least let me try, ok? What other choice do you have?”

_‘Um, the Great Fairy!’_ he wanted to respond sarcastically, however, he still couldn't speak. And in spite of his hesitation towards allowing Midna to help him, he couldn’t deny that she might possibly have a point.

Destiny did seem to have a lot of sway in his life; the Goddesses always seemed to present him with the tools he needed to accomplish the tasks they had set out in front of him. It was entirely possible that Midna had been secretly guided here to find him for the very purpose of restoring his normal form. Still… if she messed something up she could kill him, or put him in an even worse state than he currently was…

What finally ended up making up his mind was the look in her eye. It was equal parts resolute and pleading. Regardless of what she had said, she certainly looked like she thought she could do this… And if anything went wrong, the Great Fairy was just a little ways away. He may as well let her try.

Feeling like he was almost certainly going to regret this, Link swallowed thickly and forced a shaky nod.

An all too familiar grin flashed crookedly across Midna’s impish face, and she bounced up and down with excitement, squealing with distinctly un-Midna-esque delight. Sweet Nayru, what had he done…

Breathing heavily, she quickly schooled her features and sat up a little straighter on her knees. Clearing her throat seriously, she peeked her eye open and faced Link head-on, unable to prevent an excited grin from worming its way across her face.

“Ok… Here we go…”

Every fiber of Link’s being told him to run, but he remained in place through sheer nerve and loyalty to his best friend. He couldn’t help but wonder if that had something to do with the fact that he was currently a dog, or if he was always that loyal…

Regardless, any and all thoughts were wiped from his mind as Midna closed her eyes and let out a long, slow sigh. Gently, she raised her hand and aimed her palm at Link’s head, her fingers slightly apart, the rest of her body rigid.

All at once, Midna’s ponytail stood up straight in the air and a powerful shadowy aura forced itself upon him with all the gentleness and grace of a tsunami. He flinched as it pressed down on him, smothering him, crushing his soul with an unbearably suffocating weight. He opened his mouth to howl or bark or something, let her know how uncomfortable this was so she might stop, when suddenly an unimaginable pain exploded from the inside of his skull.

All rational thought was gone from that point forward. There was nothing left, nothing in the entirety of existence, except for that incredible pain. It felt as though someone was trying to ram a metal rod through the front of his forehead from the inside out. He wasn’t sure how long it lasted; it might have been moments or it might have been hours, but just when he thought he couldn’t take another second of this unbearable agony, he felt what he thought must have been the front of his skull shattering, and everything went black.

When Link opened his eyes again, he was lying face-down on the cold, hard earth.

His entire body ached, particularly his forehead, and he was drenched in a cold sweat. Waves of nausea assaulted him from within as his limbs were wracked with spastic tremors.

Gingerly, he reached up and palpated his forehead for a non-existent wound, yet as he regained focus he could see the golden-yellow of the Triforce insignia blazing on the back of his hand, emboldening him, and he pushed his consciousness past the haze of pain, struggling on too-weak limbs to raise up off the ground and take disoriented stock of his surroundings.

The moment he was up, he remembered where he was and what was happening- and realized that it had worked.

Disbelieving, all thoughts of pain and sickness fleeing from his mind, Link pushed himself unsteadily to his feet and hastily examined his body. Two hands, two shoed feet, pants and a shirt instead of fur…! He flexed his fingers joyfully and felt a grin split its way across his face. He was back in his normal body… She’d done it! Midna had done it! He was free!

Midna, for her part, had slowly risen to her feet across from Link, a rather shaky, ashen look on her face. Clearing her throat gruffly, she gave Link’s body a quick once-over with her one free eye before hesitantly calling out, her voice a little croaky, “Link…? Are you… ok?”

He tore his gaze away from his body to look at her, and for a moment the two teens were completely silent.

Then with a sudden shout of joy that had Midna flinching violently, Link launched himself forwards and enveloped his miniature friend in a bone-crushing hug, scooping her up into the air and twirling her around until he was so dizzy that he nearly fell over, laughing and whooping all the while.

When he finally set her down, Midna took a few disoriented steps away from him before growling and punching him rather forcefully on the arm.

“Will you chill the frick out already?! Seriously! And don’t you ever violate my personal space like that again, you idiot, I can barely see straight! Gods, you made me nauseous…”

“Sorry,” Link chuckled, leaning forward on his knees and wiping the tears of mirth from his eyes. “Wow… It’s good to see you again, Mid. Thanks for the help.”

“Yeah, whatever,” she muttered off-handedly, but the grin she sent him told him she was glad to see him too. “Mind telling me how you got here and why you were a dog?”

“Wolf,” Link corrected, and Midna rolled her eyes.

“Wolf, dog, Chihuahua, same difference. Whatever preserves your masculinity.”

Link opened his mouth to answer but was cut off once again by Midna who suddenly stooped down to grab something off the floor.

“Hey wait, what’s that?”

Link blinked and looked down just in time to see Midna reach out and pluck up the odd black-and-orange stone that had turned him into a wolf in the first place.

“No, wait- don’t!”

It was too late. Midna’s pale, slender fingers curled around the obsidian rock, and…

Nothing happened.

"No, wait what?" she asked, shooting him an odd look as she rose back to her feet, turning the stone over in her hands. “This is pretty.”

Link stared at her in surprise. Why wasn’t the stone doing anything to her? Was it designed to only work on him? Or did it have something to do with the magic of that crown of hers?

She noticed him staring and scowled.

“What?”

“Nothing, it’s cool,” he replied, throwing his hands up defensively, the handcuff still on his wrist after four transformations making a soft tinkling noise. Clearly, the stone was safe in her possession; he didn't know why, but then there was a lot he didn't know right now, and he didn't have time to dwell on it. He had a job to do.

“So, you gonna tell me what’s going on or what?” she asked, stuffing the rock into her purple shoulder bag. He decided to let her go ahead and keep it; who knew if he'd have to turn into a wolf again and if it was safe in her company…

“Well, it’s kind of a long story…” Link replied, straightening up and stretching, taking a moment to revel in the fact that he had arms and legs again; sure, he’d had them for a little while earlier, but he liked to think that he now had them back to stay this time. “But I don’t really have a lot of time to stand around and tell it; I need to get moving. You can come along with me and I can explain along the way-“

Once again, Fi exploded unexpectedly out of the sword strapped to Link’s back, cutting him off mid-sentence and making Midna scream in surprise.

“Master, do you no longer wish to continue on towards the Great Fairy?”

“Ok, whoa- Who, or- or what in Din’s name is that… thing!” Midna forced out wildly between heaving breaths, shooting Fi the most violent death glare Link had ever seen her give.

“Oh, uh…” Link scratched the back of his head awkwardly, considering his words. “This is… Well, Midna, this is Fi, the Spirit of the Master Sword.”

Midna mouthed the words ‘Spirit of the Master Sword’ incredulously, looking like a vein in her temple was about to burst.

“Fi, this is Midna… And no, I guess I don’t have to go find the Great Fairy after all. I mean, I’m already back to normal. We may as well head back and save Tatl, right?”

“Understood.”

And just like that, she vanished back into his sword.

Link stared at the space she disappeared from, then turned back in the direction of the nearby monster camp. Well, that had been… anticlimactic. A real time-saver, though. Why hadn’t the rest of his quests gone that easily?

“Ok, hold up.” Midna interrupted, rubbing her temples. “You were going to see a fairy, but now you’re not anymore? And who’s Tatl?”

“Come on, I’ll explain on the way,” Link replied, heading off back in the direction he came from, “but we need to hurry!”

Midna let out a tortured moan but followed along.

“Ugh… not more walking…!”

“You get used to it.”

“I will literally never get used to this ever.”

 Link smirked, grateful to have a friend along to keep him company, but the smile soon faded away to a scowl of determination.

_Soon, Tatl. I’ll rescue you soon. Just wait a little longer._


	24. Harmony

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick note - this is the longest chapter in the story, by... several thousand words. Sorry about that. And I actually managed to cut it down by almost half, if you can believe it. Yeesh. 
> 
> Ok, that's it. Read on.

Groose’s eyes snapped open and he had to clench his teeth to stifle the groan that immediately tore itself from his chest.

Goddesses above, he hurt everywhere! What had happened? His back felt like he’d been on the receiving end of a surprise pile-driver, and his entire left shoulder was a veritable ball of stabbing agony. He tried to adjust his arm and instantly stopped- the muscles immediately flared in pain and a number of his ribs creaked in agony. He might’ve broken a couple of them, and he was about ninety percent certain his arm was dislocated. But how? And where was he, anyway?

Blinking through the pain, Groose used his good arm to push himself up, dragging his knees out of the cool water and bringing them up through the mud to support his weight. The moon was high in the sky, but it was obscured by a blanket of dark clouds. It looked like there was maybe a cliff over to his left and he thought he heard what might be a waterfall in the distance.

A waterfall…

His memory came back to him in a flash and he inhaled sharply through his nose, his eyes flying wide and pain flaring through his ribs once again. The waterfall and the cliff! He and Marin had flown up it and found some abandoned house full of mummies! They’d been fighting them, and then… and then…

She’d accidentally knocked him into something, and then everything went black. That's the last thing he remembered. Apparently, he'd gotten away from the mummies they'd been fighting, and judging by the fact that the waterfall was to his left, he was back on the bottom of the cliff again. But how… Unless when she'd knocked him backward, he'd flown into the river and had been washed downstream by the current. He must've toppled down the waterfall while he was unconscious.

Groose swallowed past a sudden lump in his throat. He was lucky he was still alive. He should’ve drowned, or at the very least broken his neck when he’d tumbled off the falls. The river wasn’t all that deep if he remembered correctly. Maybe that’s what happened to his shoulder? The waterfall basin was probably deeper than the rest of the river, and the mud might have cushioned the impact a little, but…

Groose shook his head roughly, feeling his head twinge a bit from the sudden movement. Who cared how he survived, what about Marin? Where was she? Did the mummies get her after she’d knocked him out? He needed to get up and get looking. Pushing himself unsteadily to his feet, he ignored the pain and immediately set off towards the cliff. After two steps, something caught his injured shoulder with a painful tug and he came to a stop with a hiss.

Glancing down, he was surprised to see the grappling hook was still mostly wrapped around his arm. The hook itself was somewhere in the river, probably half-buried in the mud; it had caught when he'd tried to walk away, trapping him like a dog leash. With a grimace he moved to shrug the rope off, then hesitated and instead waded back into the water to fish the hook out. He didn't feel like he was in very good shape, but this grappling hook might just be his only way up the cliffside. He could try calling the bird again, but he didn’t know what the song was and he was pretty sure that in that case, it wasn’t so much the song as it was the actual flute that was being used, and all he had was Marin’s pan flute.

He blinked and looked down at his chest. Yup, the pan flute was still there. So it had survived the river and the waterfall, too. Maybe it was magical and indestructible… but no, there was a scratch along the front of the reeds, probably from a pebble or something when he’d washed up on the riverbank. The leather thong looked a little ratty too. He’d need to find some way to replace it before he returned it to Marin.

Wrapping the grappling hook around his shoulder again, Groose set off towards the cliff once more, anxiety nibbling on the edges of his confidence and determination. Judging by how dark it was, it had likely been hours since he’d been knocked into the river and washed up onshore. He’d need to book it if he wanted to catch up to her.

He arrived at the base of the cliff and stared up the rocky wall with a frown. It was high, but he thought his grappling hook might be just barely long enough to reach the top. That wasn’t his problem; his problem was going to be climbing the rope with his shoulder out of wack. Seriously, this was likely going to be the most painful thing he’d ever attempted…

Screwing up his determination, he slung the rope off his injured shoulder and braced his legs, twirling the twisted bit of metal that served as the hook for a moment in his good hand before turning and hurling it up into the air. It was difficult to see in the darkness, but it looked as though the hook just managed to reach the clifftop and land somewhere just out of sight.

Grunting in appreciation, he took the rope in his hand and tugged, hoping the hook would snag and allow him to climb. To his dismay, it slid right off the edge and fell back down. Grumbling, he scooped it off the floor and tried again. And again. And again.

On the fourth attempt it caught, and Groose let out a sigh of relief. For a moment, he didn’t think this was going to work. Giving the rope an experimental tug, he seized it in both hands, his left arm screaming in protest, and began the painful process of climbing.

He made it not even three feet before whatever the hook had caught on broke free and he fell back to the ground in a painful heap, the hook landing not even a foot away from his head with a resounding clang. Something in his shoulder popped painfully.

Head throbbing, shoulder screaming, he lay on the ground for a moment clenching his teeth and writhing in silent agony. After the shockwaves of pain resided he let his watery eyes blink back open and took in the dark cliff face with a murderous glare.

He should have realized that would happen. What was there to hook onto on the edge of the cliff but loose soil and rocks? Forget about his arm, the only way the grappling hook was going to help him get up the cliff was if he found something with a solid foundation to grab onto, but how was he supposed to do that when it was so dark that he couldn’t even see?

He sat up with a sigh, wincing at the twinge of pain that shot through his ribs and moved to rub at his shoulder before realizing the pain had receded a great deal. Had he… knocked it back into place when he’d hit the ground? Grunting, he lifted his arm experimentally and was pleased to see it respond, albeit with tremendous pain. Well, that was better than before. With a wistful sigh, he stared forlornly at the pan flute that swung from its leather thong around his neck.

If Marin were in this situation, she’d just play some magical song and fly her way up. Midna could probably find some answer in that book of hers, or else use that ocarina to turn back time so she never got separated in the first place. But for him… what could he do?

He played like he was the hero, but he said it himself to Marin earlier- he was the all-around jock. Sturdy and useful in a scrap, but as far as general handiness went, he wasn’t a very flexible tool. Sure, he knew a bit about carpentry from his dad and he was good at physics, but just look at what had happened last time he tried to be something he wasn’t. He’d rained flaming chunks of the moon on a defenseless city.

And unlike Marin and Midna, he hadn't stumbled across a mind-blowing magical tool. All he had was a grappling hook, these golden gauntlets that may-or-may-not have given him super strength if he could figure out how they worked, and a set of ordinary reed pipes that he didn't know how to play. This was pointless. It was like he was trying to build a doghouse, but all he had was a hammer and a screwdriver. No saw, no nails, no balance, no-

He blinked and felt his eyebrows rise in surprise and, dare he admit it, poorly concealed hope. He was wrong… there was one song he knew how to play… He wasn’t sure what it would do, and it was a long-shot, sure, but…

Drawing the reed pipes to his lips, he took a deep breath and puckered his lips, blowing into the tiny wooden pipes from lowest to highest in one quick pass. He held his breath as he waited for the magic of the Scarecrow’s Song to take effect, hoping that Pierre and Bonaroo hadn’t been lying and that something useful might actually happen…

For a moment all was silent, and he felt his hope begin to wither and die as another lonely breeze ruffled past, chilling his still-sodden limbs, and just as he was about to give up and hurl the reed pipes into the river, a voice called out through the darkness.

“Whoa, baby! How the heck did I get up here?!”

Groose felt his jaw drop. He knew that voice…

“Pierre?!” He squawked, leaping painfully to his feet and craning his neck up, squinting through the darkness towards the source of the voice at the top of the cliff.

“Yo, Groose?!” Pierre responded, sounding equally shocked. “Is that you? So you’re not dead after all?! Yeah, baby! Well, that's the best news I've heard all day! We thought you were mummy chow for sure!"

Groose shook his head, bemused. How had the scarecrow arrived at the top of the cliff? They had no legs! Why else would they stand around in a field all day?! Unless… unless this was what the Scarecrow’s Song did? Summoned the scarecrow with whom they’d made their pact?

Groose felt his brows lower into a flat glare. Well great, so the Scarecrow’s Song summoned a scarecrow. That’d be amazing if he was planning on growing turnips in his backyard, but how was that supposed to help him now-?

An idea sprang up in his head.

“Hey, Pierre, say something!”

“Say something?” Pierre parroted back, sounding bemused. “What the heck does that mean? I’ve been saying something this whole time, haven’t you been listening? Hey, how’d you get down on the bottom of this cliff? I can’t really see very well but I don’t think the music box house is all that far away. You sure didn’t move far before choosing to summon me, did-?”

With a whirl and a grunt, Groose managed to zero in on Pierre’s location on the cliff top by focusing on the sound of his voice and hurled the grappling hook up in his direction, holding his breath that his plan would work…

There was a thud, and then Pierre’s voice cut off in a surprised yelp.

“Hey- ow! What is… Is this a rope? With some sort of hook on it? Did you… Did you throw this at me?! Man, that is not how you treat your scarecrow buddies, baby! Now you got it all tangled around my-“

Groose seized the lower end of the rope and gave an almighty tug. To his immense relief, the rope held fast.

“ACK!” Pierre screeched from his perch up above. “What are…?! I’ve been stabbed! I’ve been stabbed through the chest! You put your stupid hook through my chest, you demon! What is wrong with you?! What kind of sick monster treats his friends this way?! Oh, Goddesses, I… I think I’m dying! I’m dying! I can feel my lifeblood dripping away! Oh, the light…! I can see the light!”

Ignoring the overly dramatic cries of the scarecrow up above, Groose seized the rope in both hands and took a slow, deliberate breath. Din, but this was going to hurt… his shoulder may be miraculously relocated, but it was hardly back in peak condition. Regardless, wherever she was, Marin probably needed him. Midna, too. And everyone else. He needed to get moving.

Injured as his shoulder was, he decided there was only one way to go about this. He needed to see if he could walk up the cliff, holding himself steady with his injured hand and using his good hand to reach forward and pull himself up by increments. He braced one foot against the rock wall, secured the rope in his gauntleted fist, the hand of his injured arm level with his hip, and jumped up.

Pain flared through his body and he gritted his teeth, preparing himself for the first pull… and stopped, feeling his eyebrows draw down in consternation. His left shoulder still hurt, but his arms… It was like there was no weight pulling at the rope.

He still had to struggle to keep his feet on the rock face and not let them simply obey gravity and hang down, and the act of lifting his legs still required effort from his thighs and abdominals, but for whatever reason using his arms to hold himself up was requiring zero energy. It was like he was suddenly weightless.

His eyes zeroed in on the gauntlets.

It couldn't be…. But there was no other explanation. The gauntlets once belonged to the Hero of Time, clearly they were special in some way if they'd been preserved in Flat's manor for all this time. And he'd used them to push that wall over. Marin thought it had just been weak and caved in, but Groose knew what he had seen. Only… if they gave him the strength to move massive blocks and made it so he could support his own weight on his hands with ease, why did the strength not come to him when he'd punched the wall? Why wasn't it any good in a fight?

The memory of him tumbling off the porch with the mummy came suddenly to mind, and he remembered struggling to push it off his chest and the way that it had flown up into the air, its limbs tearing off its torso like paper-mâché. At the time he'd just thought it was his own adrenaline mixed in with the rotting corpse's eroded appendages, but what if it wasn't? What if it had to do with the gauntlets giving him extra strength?

Rules… there had to be rules to how it worked. He just needed to figure out what they were. Think, Groose, think… He pushed the rock, and it worked. He punched the wall, and it didn’t. He pushed the mummy, and it worked. He held himself up, and it worked.

Pushing… holding… pulling, more like. Was that how it worked? Only when he pushed and pulled things?

Determined to give it a try, he pulled himself up with his right arm.

His body moved up as though he were a feather.

Grinning, he quickly threaded the rope through his injured hand, reached up for more rope, and pulled himself up again.

It was working. Moreover, it was helping. If it weren’t for the gauntlets making the job easier, he doubted his shoulder would have survived the climb. It didn’t make him weightless though, as his aching legs and abdomen could attest. Rather, it was more like the gauntlets themselves supported the weight of whatever they were holding; his legs swung free and were moved by muscles not related to his hands or arms, and so to those muscles his legs and body had weight, but as far as his hands were concerned, he may as well have been a bubble.

It still took several minutes for him to scale the length of the cliff and reach Pierre, who was still screaming and hollering in his overly-dramatic death throws, his arms wrapped around in Groose’s rope and his chest pierced by one of the prongs of the grappling hook. The wooden pole that held him aloft creaked slightly every time Groose moved closer, but remarkably it held up against the weight of Groose’s body. It must be stronger than it looked.

Finally, with a grunt and a hiss of pain, Groose grabbed Pierre by the base of his pole and heaved himself onto the ledge of the cliff, rolling away from the edge and trying to ignore the way his shoulder stabbed at him.

After a few gulps of air, he cracked his eyes back open and squinted through the darkness towards Pierre. The scarecrow was glaring down at him with all the righteous fury of a magistrate, his arms bent and held at his waist.

Groose felt his lips quirk into a crooked smile.

“Hey, Pierre. I thought you said you were dyin’.”

"Haha,” the scarecrow snarled dryly. "You're hilarious. Now, will you get up off the ground and take this hook out of my chest? You owe me a new coat.”

Groose snorted but complied, rising up on one knee and unwrapping the grappling hook, yanking the prong out of his straw-filled chest with a sharp jerk. It came free under the influence of his gauntlet-boosted strength with no trouble. He quickly threaded it through his belt and stuck one of the prongs through his waistband like he had back in Clock Town. It made it easier to carry.

“Thanks,” Pierre responded wryly. “I wasn’t kidding about that coat, though.”

“Yeah, whatever. What’s up with that song of yours? Why does it make you pop up wherever I play it?”

The scarecrow snickered. “It’s our little way of getting around. We don’t have any legs, so we can’t get away from that cursed shack on our own, but if someone plays that song we can travel there. I guess you can say we were sorta tricking you.”

Part of Groose felt like he ought to have been annoyed, but he had just stabbed a chunk of rusted metal through his chest and used him to haul himself up a cliff. Fair was fair.

“You might’ve picked a better spot though.” Pierre continued. “One strong storm and I’ll be knocked off this ledge and smashed to pieces. Figures I’d get stuck with you. Bonaroo lucked out with that pretty girlfriend of yours.”

Well, that was probably true. His heart leaped at the mention of Marin; the fact that Pierre didn’t skirt around her name or mention anything about mummies seemed to indicate that she was ok. That was a relief.

“Hey Pierre, did you see where she went?”

“Oh yeah. She kicked up a fuss when she found you went missing and almost went chasing into that evil house to find you till Bonaroo talked some sense into her. We told her that you musta run off and she just up and walked off all quiet-like. I knew I was right; figured you were the type of guy to wuss out when things get hairy."

“I got knocked out and fell into the river,” Groose grunted sourly, straightening up and peering off in the direction of the old wooden house and the still water wheel. It really wasn’t that far away, maybe the length of a football field, but he could just make it out through the darkness. Or at least he thought he could. He didn’t see any mummies prowling around. They must’ve given up once they realized they had nothing to eat. But if Marin thought he’d run away, then where’d she go off to?

Upriver, he decided with a determined nod. She wouldn't let Groose abandoning her stop her from achieving her dream of being a master musician or whatever. The girl was dedicated if nothing else, and her will was like iron. She'd make one heck of a rugby player… if she were a dude and about two hundred pounds heavier.

Well, no sense in standing here, shooting the breeze. She’d had all night to walk, she might already be there, wherever there was. Nothing to do but carry on.

“Thanks, Pierre,” Groose replied gruffly, massaging his shoulder and wincing. Actually, it felt a little better. Maybe he needed to stretch it out a bit? Hmm… “I need to catch up to Marin, though, so I’ll see you later.”

“Sure,” Pierre mumbled, turning away and facing off the cliff. “See you later… Like you'd play my song again on purpose unless you felt like stabbing me in the back again."

Groose frowned. “Nah, I mean it. When me and Marin get out of here and back to our home, I’ll find the nicest garden around and give that song of yours a play. Marin, too. You and Bonaroo will be out of this crappy valley before you know it. I owe you that much.”

Pierre turned back to face him and cocked his head to the side, looking uncertain. Finally, he nodded and stuck out a handless arm as though to shake.

“Alright then, fleshy! You do that and I’ll take back all the mean things I said about you!”

“Yeah, whatever,” Groose replied, pinching the straw poking out at the end of Pierre’s arm between his thumb and forefinger and giving the facsimile of a handshake. With a shake of his head, Groose set off.

The darkness was as thick as ever as Groose continued on, following the course of the river but leaving ample space between him and the actual body of water. He was loath to pass too near the old wooden shack full of the mummified dead and have them come alive again and take a second shot at devouring his flesh.

He kept his eyes peeled, looking every which direction, hoping for some sign of where Marin could be, but the darkness was thick like a cloak over his surroundings, and it was hard to see more than a dozen yards ahead. Din, he hoped Marin was ok…

The oddness of that thought struck him for a moment, and he felt his lips twist wryly.

Before his night in the museum, he hadn't even known Marin had existed, and yet now here he was, pressing forward through potentially monster-filled darkness, essentially defenseless and lost, hoping to save her.

He wondered what the old him would say about his actions. He'd probably snort and muster up his bravado, boasting loudly that he always knew he was a hero and it was his job to use his impressive muscles to save beautiful damsels in need and whatnot. And while he knew a part of himself still sort of felt that way, like he needed to put on this act to make sure that everyone thought he was this cool, confidant guy, another part of him, a smaller, louder part of him, knew that he was pressing on to save Marin for entirely different reasons.

She… mattered to him. Not like in a romantic, soul-mate kind of way; hey, cut him some slack, he may be softening up inside but he was hardly a hopeless romantic. She was his friend, his teammate. In the last couple of hours, he’d gotten along better with that airheaded band geek than he had with all the guys on his rugby team combined and he had no idea why. The two were so different, they had nothing in common. So why did he feel so at ease around her? Like he didn’t have to worry about what she thought of him. She was a music-obsessed weirdo and he was Ordon’s rugby star. Friendships like that only happened in hokey movies.

Maybe… Maybe it didn't matter that they were so different. They had to have a couple things in common, right? They were both gingers. They both loved adventure. They were both new, trying to make friends in a school full of strangers, a school that had suffered a unique tragedy and had bound itself tightly together upon surviving it. They were both outsiders. They didn't know what it was like last year during the Ordon High Massacre. They weren't survivors, they hadn't shared those experiences and struggled to put it all back together afterward. Is that why Groose felt like he had to try so hard to be cool? Because deep down he knew he'd never really fit in?

Man, why were his thoughts so heavy all of a sudden? He was too cool for this. He was Groose, the quintessential jock, the toughest guy in school! What use was base sentimentality when you had pecks like his?!

‘ _Nobody’s that one-dimensional!’_ Marin’s scandalized voice seemed to echo in his head.

A grimace flitted across his face, and he turned to peer cautiously across the darkened river.

Yeah, sure… Groose had other passions aside from rugby, but unlike his favorite contact sport, physics and carpentry had never done him or anyone else any good. He’d destroyed Clock Town the last time he tried to be something other than a jock! Granted, Midna had rewound time immediately afterward and he and Midna had managed to save the city the next time around, but he'd done so with his physical strength. Aided by a magic mask, sure, but he’d still been playing to his strengths when he’d caught the moon on his shoulders and hurled it back into space.

It took him a second to notice that a shape was forming out of the darkness in front of him. A large shape. A very large shape.

By the time Groose realized what he was looking at he had practically walked right up to the wall. It was a building. A large building, far larger than the wooden shack with the water wheel. Larger even than Flat's manor house, or than any building he'd seen thus far. It was hard to make out through the darkness, but it looked as though the entire outer wall was made of ancient, pitted stone, marred with cracks and fissures that told of great age and ran right up to the water's edge on his left and out of sight to the right. The wall stood maybe twenty feet high, and beyond it, he could just barely make out the shape of a much larger building inside. A palace, maybe, or a castle of some sort.

Basically, he had two options- either he looked around inside to see if Marin was there, or else he continued on along the river. He was pretty sure that Flatt had said something about them going to the river’s source, so if he had to put money on it, he’d say Marin had passed by without going inside, particularly after what had happened to them last time they’d decided to take a detour to a strange, old building.

He ultimately decided on going left, as he could at least see the riverbank. Only, when he reached the corner of the outer wall by the river's edge and poked his head around it to examine the area, he found himself facing what looked like a platoon of fat, dark-skinned men in rusty armor standing at attention on a bridge that spanned the body of water. Torches flickered on brackets behind them, but the shadows they cast made them difficult to make out clearly.

Sentries… so the castle wasn’t unoccupied. They would definitely see him if he tried to cross over here. What was he supposed to do now?

Stepping back from the edge and running his hands through his hair in a frustrated way, his eyes fell upon a segment of the wall that had fissure marks running in a triangular pattern from the dirt floor clear up to the top of the wall. The cracks seemed deep and old… The wall may have been broken clear through. With his gauntlets improving his strength, he may be able to push that section over like he’d accidentally done at Flat’s manner house. Cutting through the castle would certainly be faster than walking around it… but it would also be riskier. A lot riskier. Was it worth it?

Ultimately, he decided that it was. He had no real reason to think that Marin was in any danger, but the thought of her wandering alone through the dark wilderness made his skin crawl. He never liked waiting on the sidelines during a play. He was an action sort of guy, and a little risk might do him some good, wake him out of this weird funk he was in. Besides, there were probably more sentries outside than in. All he had to do was keep to the shadows and make his way to the far side of the building, push another wall over, and he would be back outside and on his way.

Striding forward, he braced his gauntlet-covered palms against the cold, worn stone, feeling the way the surface scratched against his bare fingertips as he took a moment to brace his legs and prepare himself. Taking a deep breath, Groose steeled his determination and gave an almighty shove.

The wall cracked ominously above him, echoing through the night as the segment Groose was pushing against tore itself free of the wall with only slight resistance. Pebbles and dust rained down upon him, choking his airway as the chunk of outer wall toppled inwards, collapsing on the ground with a muffled crash, a slight tremor shaking the ground.

Coughing, Groose stumbled forward, one hand covering his mouth, the other trying vainly to wave the dust and debris away from his eyes as he squinted through the darkness, struggling to take in his new surroundings.

A clank and a grunt to his right were his only warning. Reacting instinctively, Groose threw himself forward into a role, made painful and uneven on the broken surface of wall he was standing on, and unsteadily pushed himself upward, turning back to face the hole in the wall and the direction he’d come from.

There, standing right next to the hole’s entrance, stood a figure in rusty chainmail, a huge spear clenched in its meaty fist, the blade of which was stabbed directly through the space where Groose’s throat had been mere moments earlier.

With a bestial growl, the figure retracted its weapon slowly, lowering its strangely elongated head and turning to regard Groose with an ominous glower through the slits in its helmet.

For a wild moment, Groose thought he was facing what looked to be a short, squat, dark-skinned man before he noticed the creature's tail swishing through the dark night air and the fact that its hands and feet were unprotected. Each of his dark green digits ended in a black claw, and though he possessed what looked like five fingers, his feet were distinctly birdlike, though still covered in scales like the rest of its body. The occasional scrap of armored plating covered his forearms or thighs, but other than its helmet and chainmail vest, most of its body was exposed. It was a lizard. A giant, man-sized lizard. Goddesses… Just when he thought he’d seen it all…

Its tongue flicked out into the air like a snake, testing for his scent, and then it cracked its jaw open wide to reveal two rows of pointed yellow teeth and emitted a high-pitched shriek of challenge as it leaped up atop the fallen section of wall with surprising speed and charged straight at Groose, its spear held low.

Groose panicked. Breaking into a dead sprint, he tore hastily away from his attacker and the hole that led back outside the castle compound. Torches lined the walls, making it easier to see within the walls, and after a moment of weaving through free-standing decorative pillars, Groose realized he was in some kind of courtyard. The wall he’d pushed through seemed to form a box-like ring around the castle itself, which was a tall, imposing structure in the center of the compound. He couldn’t see any entrances on this side, but then he didn’t really have time to take a good look as he was currently running for his life away from an armored, spear-wielding velociraptor.

Numerous pillars made up the space between the outer wall and the castle, and Groose wove between them as if they were members of the opposing team and he was running the ball to the far end of the field. Though the lizard was more agile, Groose was smaller, and though he wasn’t used to not being the bigger guy, he used whatever he had to his advantage.

As he neared the front of the castle, he subconsciously reached forward to grab at the next pillar, meaning to try and pull himself forward with his arms as he ran as if it would make him faster. He forgot about his gauntlets, however, and as he tugged, the aged stone pillar snapped like a dead branch, toppling backward to hit the ground with an almighty crash.

Groose turned around in spite of himself, caught off-guard. The lizard gave a shriek and leaped out of the way, hissing angrily, and the pillar hit the ground and broke into pieces, chunks of stone of various sizes tumbling in every direction.

The realization hit Groose like a kick to the gut. A weapon… he had a weapon- his strength! He just needed a way to use it effectively, and with all these pillars standing around…!

Placing both hands against a pillar, he shoved it over with a grunt and watched as the pursuing lizard was forced to dive out of the way once again to avoid being crushed. Using this to his advantage, Groose turned and continued running, grabbing at every pillar he passed, pulling them back, knocking them over like dominoes.

The lizard tried to follow but found his path impeded every few feet by a new falling obstacle. It roared in rage and impatience, but by the time it managed to advance, Groose had gained about a dozen yards. Finally reaching the front of the castle, Groose turned and shoved the next pillar over sideways. Rather than falling backward like the others, it fell sideways against the outer wall. Groose's plan was simple- if he couldn't make it back to the hole, he'd have to create another avenue of escape. There weren't any obviously broken segments of the wall around here, but if he knocked the pillar over and leaned it against the wall, he might be able to use it as a bridge or a ladder...

Unfortunately, both his plan and the pillar fell apart. The moment it crashed into the wall it snapped into three pieces and crashed into the floor with a loud rumble. Cursing under his breath, Groose turned to see the lizard gaining on him and, further down the way, even more emerging from the back of the castle, no doubt alerted by the lizard’s shrieking and Groose playing Hulk with the décor.

The sounds of more shrieks and hisses could be heard coming from his left amidst the sound of running feet. Turning in that direction, Groose saw the gates of the outer wall in front of the castle’s entrance drawing upwards and more lizards rushing in, no doubt the ones he’d seen guarding the bridge, and even more spilling out of the castle itself and from around the far side, where he could see more pillars.

Glancing down at the fallen pillar that was to be his bridge to climb up, an idea popped into his head. Scrambling down for a decent chunk of broken pillar, he hefted one that was roughly the size of a human head and turned to lob it at the lizard with the lance.

The rock ought to have been much heavier and harder to lift, but with his gauntlets, it might as well have been a baseball. He'd aimed for its head and missed, although, from the crackling sound that emitted when the mini boulder struck its chest, he'd still managed to crush a few ribs. With a hoarse cry, the lizard fell to the ground, its body spasming for a moment before growing still, dark blood dripping from its gaping jaws. It burst into acrid black smoke.

A wild grin exploded across Groose’s face. Turning, he hefted one of the larger sections of pillar, this one nearly five paces long and as thick around as he was, and, turning to face the gathering group of lizards on his left, he hurled it into the gathering group of monsters with about as much difficulty as he would have had throwing a basket of clothes.

The pillar tore through the front ranks, immediately crushing five or six lizards and knocking over several more. A loud roar of disapproval echoed throughout the growing ranks of monsters, but Groose didn’t wait to see how they’d react. Falling to his knees beside the rubble, he hastily began grabbing at whatever chunk of pillar was closest and hurling it at the first lizard he saw.

He did a fairly decent job of holding them off, at least for a little while. He lost count of how many lizards he took down, but judging by the number of swords and lances, axes and war hammers that lay discarded by piles of pillar, it was somewhere in the high teens or low twenties. About half the number of monsters who’d come to subdue him were dead, but more were pouring out of the castle to reinforce them, and unfortunately, Groose was out of pillar rubble.

Seizing his only chance, he grabbed at the last, large segment of pillar and hurled it through an approaching group of monsters and, before their reinforcements could patch the hole in their defenses, Groose pushed himself to his feet and ran sprinting through them, leaping desperately over chunks of stone, hoping that his feet didn’t catch on anything in the flickering torchlight.

The feeling of victory that exploded through his chest as he broke free of the monsters and sprinted across the courtyard towards the far wall and the promise of escape dwarfed that of any accomplishment he’d ever had on the playing field. There he had been, in an impossible situation, and he’d barely managed to pull through in the clutch. He could do this. He could get out! He’d survive!

Passing the stairs that led up to the castle doors, vividly aware of the dozen or so angry lizards giving chase, Groose made to round the far side of the castle and disappear through the segment of undisturbed pillars only to find a fresh wave of lizard guards coming at him. The tiny flame of hope that had ignited in his chest died, but he squashed his fear and made himself move, unwilling to give up.

Grabbing the first pillar he came to in both hands, Groose rooted it out of the ground like a weed and, turning back to face the lizards approaching him, he clumsily tried to swing it like a baseball bat.

Though the gauntlets magically removed the would-be weight of the pillar from his hands, they didn’t remove the weight of the pillar from itself. Halfway through the swinging motion, the top half of the pillar broke off, burdened by its own tremendous weight, and so only the first three lizards felt the brunt of Groose’s swing. Still, it was enough to kill those three, and the fallen section of pillar exploded violently, sending stone shrapnel flying and scattering the would-be charge.

Turning hastily, Groose threw himself at the next pillar in desperation, ignoring the painful twinge in his shoulder as he knocked the stone object forward into its brother, which then toppled into the next, and on they continued like dominoes for the next four or five rows. The approaching lizards scattered, screeching fearfully, but to Groose's dismay, he didn't see any crushed beneath the weight of the stone before a wave of dust obscured his vision.

When he turned back to the first group of lizards, he froze.

Ten or so formed a loose ring around him, keeping a wary distance but holding their weapons up defensively. He could see wicked-looking curved blades and maces with sinister stains. A handful of them even had shields, and another five or so lizards prowled around in the background, slowly making their way over to him. Groose turned as though to flee around the side of the castle, but the lizards he'd failed to crush were just now emerging from the dust, hissing threateningly and brandishing their weapons, another dozen monsters added to the ones behind him, boxing him in. He was pinned between two clusters of monsters and the wall. He was doomed.

Swallowing thickly, Groose backed up to the wall and let his hands run across it, his fingertips searching for fault in the stone. He didn’t want to turn around and look lest one of the lizards seize the opportunity to stab him while his back was turned, but he had to find a way out! Only the stone felt solid… It didn’t seem to be broken at all. He wouldn’t be pushing through it, not even with his gauntlets. He was stuck.

Once the ring had solidified itself, the monsters began making an odd sort of rasping sound that almost sounded like laughter. One of the ones in front stepped forward, ax poised to strike, Groose felt every muscle in his body tighten, his arms raised protectively in front of his face, and as his last thought turned to his family who would never know how he died, a deep roar pierced the night.

At once the ring of lizards pulled back, each turning to look over their shoulders at the entrance of the castle. Groose blinked in surprise. Wait, was he not dead? What was going on? Who had roared?

Something about the hissing of the lizards sounded different; it was no longer angry and impatient, but had taken on a sort of worried, fearful tone instead. As the lizards backed away from him, an opening formed through their bodies, and for a wild moment, Groose thought they were going to let him go.

Then he saw the figure who had just emerged from the castle.

It was larger than the other lizards, with meatier arms and legs, a thicker torso, and skin a dull, mottled reddish-brown. Rather than chainmail and rusty plates, this lizard wore a full set of shiny armor that even covered its tail, and its helmet sported two red plumes that danced lazily in a passing breeze.

None of that was what drew Groose’s eye, however; from his gauntleted hand dangled a length of chain that pooled on the steps below him, the massive links dwarfed in his even more massive fists. The opposite end of the chain hung between his two hands, and there, dangling from his other hand on the end of the chain, was a massive steel ball studded with spikes.

Groose felt his mouth go dry. That ball was roughly the size of the medicine ball Groose had at home. It must weigh something ludicrous. That thing couldn’t really be thinking it could use a ball and chain of that size as a weapon, could it?

The monster calmly walked down the stairs, dragging the ball and chain behind him. It thudded down the steps ominously, each loud crack punctuating the air like gunfire. With his eyes trained on the monster, it took Groose a second to realize that the other lizards had separated to form some sort of circle around the front of the courtyard. They blocked the exit to the bridge and the entrance to the castle, as well as the pillar-filled paths along either side of the large, imposing building. The front of the building, however, remained open, and it was to the middle of this space that the new lizard monster walked, dragging the chain ball behind him.

Finally, it stopped, exactly in the center of the courtyard, facing Groose in ominous silence. Groose took one long look at his surroundings and understood. This lizard must be some sort of leader of the other lizards, and it looked like it was challenging him to single combat. Without pillars to throw, however, it wouldn’t be much of a challenge. Whether out of respect for all the lizards Groose had managed to take down on his own, or because he wanted the fun of killing Groose himself, he didn’t know. He was betting on the latter though.

Swallowing thickly, Groose took a few hesitant steps forward, then hastily stooped down and scooped up the ax of one of the lizards he'd felled with a pillar. The thing felt weightless in his gauntleted hand, but Groose had no idea how to use it to do anything but chop wood. He also wasn't sure if the gauntlets would make the swing of his ax more powerful or not. The haft was wooden; would it snap after the first swing if the gauntlets did work? Would he even get the first swing in?

The monster nodded, then lifted the ball off the ground, leaving about three feet of chain between his hand and the massive steel ball. Slowly it began twirling the ball around its head.

To say that Groose was impressed that the lizard-man was managing that much was an understatement, and it was even doing so one-handed. Groose licked his lips and considered his options. The ball circling around the monster proved a fairly effected defense against him just rushing up and attacking him dead on, but if he could get it to hurl the chain ball and dodge it, then he'd have the opening he needed to strike with the ax…

But if it could swing a ball of that weight with so little effort, and with one hand even, then how absurdly strong was this guy? And how fast could he reclaim the ball after he threw it?

Breathing heavily through his nostrils, Groose kept his eyes trained on his enemy as he slowly circled him, taking care to stay just out of range. The lizards along the perimeter were silent as they watched their leader do battle. A breeze gusted through the clearing again, and Groose could feel the sweat beaded up on his arms and face, the clumps of dirt that stuck to him drying uncomfortably.

There had to be a way to do this… Come on, Groose, you’re a better rugby player than this. Trusting in his inner athlete had gotten him this far, and it could get him further, he just had to focus…

Turning, he hurled the ax at the monster with all his might and watched to his dismay as it sailed a good three paces off course, striking the front of the castle and shattering the blade. Some of the lizards began their raspy laughter again.

Leaping back, Groose dodged a risky swipe of the chain ball and picked up one of the chunks of pillar he'd been hurling about earlier. He threw it at the lizard, but though this one sailed true the monster calmly sidestepped the throw, turning the movement into another attack with the steel ball. This one missed Groose by several feet but instead slammed into one of the larger chunks of pillar that were lying in the clearing, smashing it into hundreds of tiny pieces. Groose grimaced; he knew what it was doing. It was destroying his ammunition so he couldn't fight back. 

Too late, Groose realized he was being backed into a corner. There weren’t any chunks of stone for him to throw here or discarded weapons to wield. Nothing for him to do but wait until there was no more room to dodge and he was smashed against the wall like a cockroach. Was there really no way out of this? He was the captain of the rugby team, he was conditioned to think on his feet, to overcome enemy plays, to turn defeats into victories at the last second! He was a good athlete- no, a great athlete! Why couldn’t he do this?!

Unbidden, Marin’s voice bubbled up to the forefront of his mind again.

_‘There’s got to be more to you than just sports, Groose. I refuse to believe you’re nothing more than a jock. That’s like… that’s like… like a song that only has a melody! It’s boring! You have to have other parts to make up the harmony…’_

Well, that was certainly unhelpful. Was there more to Groose than just sports? Sure. He was a fairly decent carpenter thanks to all the times he’d been forced to work with his dad, but that was hardly going to help him out here. It’s not like he had an abundance of wood and the time and tools needed to create anything even remotely helpful against a human cannon.

He also secretly loved physics, but science wasn’t going to be his saving grace here. Sure, a clever physicist could probably come up with a hundred hypothetical scenarios involving what is essentially a weaponized pendulum, but again, Groose was out of time and supplies. He had no time to think, no tools to craft a magical solution out of-

He glanced down at his gloves.

Tools… Magical solutions… The gloves, they gave him incredible strength, but only if he was pushing or pulling. If he could somehow bait the lizard into hurling the ball at him at its full length, maybe he could catch it and tear it from his grasp… He could turn this whole fight around…

He almost stepped forward to give it a try when the practical, intelligent side began warring with the athlete. Sure, from a purely hypothetical standpoint, it could work, but only because the gloves seemed to cancel out inertia. If Groose managed to push against the ball as it came at him, or catch it perfectly in his hands, the magic that removed weight and made him strong might cancel out the force of the blow and leave him without injury. _If. If_ he managed to do it just perfectly right.

The thing of it was, where the scientist in him knew it could work on paper, the athlete knew that nothing worked out like the plan said it should. Plays rarely went exactly as planned. There were so many variables that Groose couldn’t account for, so many things he simply didn’t know about the gloves to correctly strategize about, that to try would be foolhardy. If he messed up, if his timing was wrong, if his grip slipped, if the ball touched any other part of his body, he’d be crushed or seriously injured

The ball was going to be the death of him. Funny, that a rugby player would come to fear a ball. But there it was, cruel irony. He’d thrown away everything to be good at sports and make a new life for himself, and what did it get him? Death by a ball. Maybe he should have focused on physics and just been a nerd.

But without the sports, how could he have survived against the lizards for this long? It was only his improved reflexes and physical fitness that had seen him last this far. Or when he’d wrangled that giant bird and saved Marin? Or when he’d held up the moon with that mask? None of that would have been possible if Groose hadn’t worked so hard at rugby for this past year and been at his peak physical condition. So being an athlete was the way to go after all, and he was right to forego the science and carpentry he loved…

But then he wouldn’t have made it this far either. Without the physics and carpentry, he’d never have survived Clock Town. Sure, he made a mess of things in the end, but it had gained him and Midna valuable information they’d have never gleaned otherwise that resulted in them eventually saving the day and escaping.

Did any of this even matter? He wasn’t a physicist. He wasn’t a carpenter. He wasn’t even a rugby player. He was just a high school idiot, trying to be cool, wanting to fit in, stuck in a nightmare of magic and death. Why did he care so much about who he was? Once he was dead, would any of that even matter?

His back bumped against the wall. He was cornered. This was it.

Did any of it matter?

It mattered to him, he decided. Who was he?

_Harmony…_

As the chorus of hisses grew louder, the lizards forming the circle sensing the end of the game about to come, Groose’s gaze zeroed in on the chain ball that was about to kill him.

The ball.

The athlete in him cared about the ball. Games always centered around them.

The physicist cared about the ball. It was the weight of the pendulum, the center of mass.

The carpenter…

The carpenter didn’t care about the ball. It was just another piece. So was the chain. So was the creature holding it.

Groose’s eyes grew wide.

With a savage snarl, the lizard jerked his arm forward and hurled the chain ball at Groose, the weapon coming in at a sharp angle from the left. Breathless, Groose surged forward.

The monster apparently hadn’t expected Groose to have any fight left in him, but he seemed unconcerned with Groose charging him down

Groose didn’t care; he could have his ball back.

A second before the ball crashed into the wall, Groose made it to about the middle of the chain and spun to a halt, his back to the weapon, arms extended, and seized the chain in either hand.

With a roar, he jerked his right arm forward, pulling it around to meet his left which remained still, securing the portion of the chain held by the lizard. The chain wrapped around Groose’s back, his body forming the new pivot point upon which the pendulum swung, the ball sailing through the air along the new course that Groose was directing. A grin of wicked triumph split across his face as he locked eyes with the lizard.

Desperately, it tried to tug the chain free of Groose’s hand but before the magically enhanced strength of the gauntlet it was useless, and before the monster could react, the ball slammed into his side, knocking him off his feet and sending him flying several paces backward where he rolled across the ground and eventually came to a halt, exploding into dust just like his underlings. 

Silence reigned in the clearing for a moment as the lizards stared in shock at the space their leader had fallen.

Groose stayed where he was, the chain held in both hands and wrapped around his back, the ball lying on the ground a little ways in front of him and to his left. Surprise was flooding through him that his crazy last-second plan had worked, but at the same time… he wasn’t that surprised. If he had been focusing, he might have seen that solution all along. It would never have worked without the gauntlets, sure, but still. He was pretty proud of himself. Of all of himself. The athlete, the carpenter, and the physicist. Even the hot-headed teenage boy.

After all, he was never really one or the other. He was just too thick to see it till now.

One of the lizards broke ranks and brandished its weapon, letting out a cry of challenge and revenge. Its comrades joined, and as one the remaining two dozen or so lizards charged forward to avenge their fallen leader.

Groose snorted in contempt.

The ball lifted up into the air as though it weighed no more than a kite. Twirling it high over his head, Groose turned and swung it through the ranks of lizards who’d been standing in front of the castle doors, crushing bones and sending reptilian bodies flying. Without missing a beat, he turned and swung the ball high overhead for one quick rotation before sending it careening through the lizards who’d been blocking the gate.

In seconds, he’d cut the number of enemies in two. He was starting to really like this ball and chain. They made the perfect combo with his gauntlets.

Hey, what do you know; another harmony.

The battle only lasted for a few more seconds before all the monsters who had opposed him had either been brutally killed or chased off. No other lizards remained in the courtyard. He could see what looked like the retreating forms of two vanishing out among the darkened pillars. Groose scoffed and let the chain ball fall to the ground. Well, looks like his work was done here…

He sighed, feeling drained. His shoulder still hurt, not nearly as badly as it had before, though the stinging of his rib that he’d been ignoring now came back with a vengeance. He was lucky he got out of this alive and without a scratch. Even better, he found a weapon.

Now that he’d killed everything, he could take the bridge and cross over to the other side of the river where Marin had been traveling. Maybe he’d find some clue as to where she went. Nodding to himself, he gathered up the rest of the chain, draped it over his arm where he’d kept the rope, and walked through the gate of the nameless castle, a small smile forming on his lips.

Things were looking up.

* * *

The wind gusted forlornly across the silent, dark landscape, picking at the dried branches of withered bushes and kicking up the occasional dust cloud. The wind tugged at Marin’s bright red hair, combing through it like ghostly fingers as it danced in the wind, making the edges of her sundress flutter. The bottom of her skirt was still a little damp from fording the river and the breeze sent a chill through her legs and bare arms, but she paid it no mind. The wind had been her only companion for the last little while. She wasn’t going to complain.

She wasn’t sure for how long she’d been sitting there in the dirt. Her dress must be filthy by now, but she didn’t care. She’d lost track of time after leaving Pierre and Bonaroo, and everything from the moment she’d discovered Groose was gone felt like a dull blur.

She’d wandered through the darkness, following the river to its source, never straying from her path unless it was to avoid anything that looked like a building along the river’s bank. She met no one else along her journey, fought no more monsters, and saw no sign of Groose anywhere. If he had run, it hadn’t been ahead. If he hadn’t run… but no, he had to have run, or else…

She took a great, shuddering breath and looked up from her feet. From her position on top of the rise, she had a good view of the surrounding valley. Up ahead, mountains sprang up out of the ground like weeds forming a natural wall that extended for miles in either direction. They looked to be too steep to climb, but that didn’t concern her much; there would be no climbing, no more pointless wandering. She’d found the river’s source.

At the foot of the mountains, Marin could just make out a small, dark cave exactly where the river and the veritable wall of rock met. It was still dark out, but the clouds were thinning and the presence of the moon shining brilliantly overhead illuminated the grounds like an enormous night light. It wasn’t enough to see very clearly, but the land around her was flat and empty, and the river glowed like a silver serpent, bathing in the light of the moon. She could see enough, enough to know where she had to go.

So why was she still sitting here?

She drew her knees up to her chest, ignoring the way the loose dirt pooled into her flats as she wrapped her arms around her legs and rested her chin on her knees. The breeze still chilled her, but it didn’t bother her as much in this position. At her side, her bag full of discarded musical instruments sat forgotten in the dirt, the strap still wrapped around her shoulder.

She hadn’t touched it since she’d left the music box house, not even to play Flat’s song and bring the sun back out. For the first time in her life, she didn’t want to play any music. She felt hollow inside, worn and frayed. Her stupid fixation on music was the reason Groose was gone. Her pride, her ego, her need to prove she was the best… Why hadn’t they focused on escaping the museum and saving their friends instead? Why had she let them get so sidetracked on something that honestly didn’t matter?!

As she buried her face in her knees, feeling the beginnings of another wave of self-loathing and shame washing over her, something new flared to life in her breast. It was hot and fiery and positively livid. Anger. She was mad. Mad at herself for acting this way.

_What would Groose say if he was here right now and he saw you acting like this?!_ her inner voice snarled contemptuously. _He would tell you to get up off the ground and keep moving! The game isn’t over yet, you can still make a play and win this thing, but not if you sit on the ground like a lump and quit!_

_But Groose isn’t here to tell me that, is he?!_ she wailed in response, feeling her shoulders start to quake. _I… I drove him off, or I killed him, or… or… How can I go on after this? How can I ever play another song again when all I’ll ever think of is him and what I did to him?!_

_So you win it for him!_ the voice shouted back, volume rising in intensity. _He wasn’t forced into following you against his will, he did it because he wanted to help and he understood what it’s like to want to be the best! So don’t give up now after all he did for you! That would be disrespectful! He was your friend!_

_Was he my friend?_ she whispered back quietly, raising her tear-stained cheeks to look out over the dark valley once again. _Was I ever really his?_

Swallowing thickly, Marin scrubbed the back of her hand across her face a few times and hastily pushed herself to her feet, needing a moment to steady herself on wobbly legs. Her internal debate hadn’t exactly built up a fire in her, but she was right in the sense that she couldn’t keep sitting here moping forever. Whether or not she became a master didn’t really seem relevant anymore (honestly, she doubted she’d ever be able to think of herself as one even if she did pass Flat’s test), but the sooner she got this done, the sooner she could set off finding the others and helping them escape. Linebeck was still in here, after all, as were Aryll and Midna and Sheik and Ralph… Maybe she’d be of more use to them than she had been to Groose.

She shivered as another breeze passed by, then resolutely she dug a flute out of her purse. Steeling herself, she held the instrument up to her lips, took a deep breath, and hesitated.

A moment passed by, then she bit her lip and tried again.

Finally, after her third try, she managed a squeaky note that wavered hesitantly in the air before fading away. Growling at herself for how emotional she was being, she tried her best to shove all thoughts of Groose away from her mind and forced herself to play the Sun Song.

It came out with many a squeak and warble, but at least she managed to play it. Nothing happened, however; the sky remained dark, the moon glowing resolutely overhead.

For a moment, she thought it was because of how poorly she’d played and struggled within herself to get her emotions under control, but then she remembered- this wasn’t a regular song, it was a magic song. She had to do what Flat said. She had to play it as though commanding the very sky itself to obey her. She needed emotion to do that, she needed to put her whole heart into the melody.

But how could she put her whole heart into something when it was broken?

She stared at her flute for a moment, searching within her for some scrap of emotion that wasn’t grief but found nothing but sorrow within.

_Well, when all you have is a hammer…_

“I’m sorry, Groose,” she whispered to the wind, feeling another tear leak out of her eyes, the flute pressed against her bottom lip, and she played.

She played to the moon. She played so that it heard her, so that it understood how she felt. How she needed this night to end so she could move on. She put every last ounce of guilt and pain she had into those few, simple notes, and when she opened her eyes, she was blinded by the light.

The sun shone dramatically overhead, the rays of light stabbing into Marin’s pupils, making her eyes water painfully. Raising a hand to ward off the morning glow, she peered cautiously around the valley to see that nothing had changed. Still the same boring landscape, the same sparse smattering of dead bushes, the same half-dry river snaking off to her right towards the same wall of mountains. The same small, dark cave just barely visible there at the end. The same silence. The same loneliness.

The breeze was warm now, however, and seemed to spur her onward. Maybe it was Groose’s way of forgiving her and telling her to go on. Or maybe she was overthinking things and the wind was only wind. Regardless, she dried her cheeks one last time, cleared her throat, and moved on.

She half-walked, half-slid down the hillside and into the valley, following the river’s course from a good twenty feet away from the dried bed, her purse bouncing off her hip with every step, her gaze kept low. Now that the sun was out, it was as if she was waking from a dream

Several minutes later, perhaps a half an hour tops, found Marin approaching the mountain wall and the cave that was her destination. The entire mountain face was illuminated a bright orange-brown. It actually kind of hurt Marin’s eyes to look at. Squinting uncomfortably, she tilted her head down and kept her gaze on her toes.

“Hey freakshow, behind you!” a loud, familiar voice called out from behind.

Marin felt her heart cartwheel nauseatingly in her chest. She forgot all about her quest, about music and the mystery man in the cave, about the museum and the plight of her friends. The moment those loud, brash, arrogant words reached her ears she skidded to a halt, eyes flying wide, and twirled around violently, her neck muscles flaring in pain at the sudden, jerky movement.

There, hustling forward along the path of the river, carrying some sort of large, spiked ball on a chain, was Groose Loft. Dirty, tired, strangely wet, and alive. Blessedly alive.

When she met his golden gaze, he flashed her a crooked grin and hollered, “’Sup, band geek. Am I late?”

She felt her legs give out. A moment later, she was kneeling in the dirt, clutching her hands to her abdomen, taking heaving gulps of air through her mouth as she drank in the form of the large male before her. Groose… Groose was alive… He was alive… She hadn’t killed him…

Tears began flowing down her cheeks again, but this time she didn’t care. He was ok… They were both ok…

Groose, it seemed, mistook the sight of her overcome with emotion at his surprise reappearance as an injury or something, because a second later he was at her side, pulling her back to her feet and tilting her face up to meet his, peering nervously into her eyes.

“Whoa now, hey, you ok? You feelin’ dizzy or weak or anything? Is it heatstroke or dehydration? Sorry, I didn’t think I was gonna catch up to you so fast, but I was walkin’ down by the river when I heard your flute, and-“

“You’re alive,” she choked out, grabbing at the front of his shirt to steady herself, feeling a stupid smile bubbling across her face.

“Uh… yeah?” he half-started, half-questioned, putting on his trademark look of blank stupefaction.

“You’re alive!” she repeated, practically screaming euphorically and all but launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and nearly knocking him backward into the dirt. He stayed on his feet, however (of course he did, he was a rugby player; he probably got tackled harder than that multiple times a day), and soon reciprocated the embrace, chuckling nervously over the sounds of Marin's manic giggling.

“Uh, yeah… I’m alive, I… Wait, why shouldn’t I be alive?”

Marin pulled away regretfully, noting the distinct red in Groose’s cheeks.

“I don’t know, you were just gone! We were fighting the mummies, I knocked you into that pillar, you vanished under the rubble, and when I came back to get you, you were gone! I thought… I thought the mummies had eaten you or else you’d ran away, or-!”

“Ran away?” Groose cut in, frowning heavily. “The Groose doesn’t run away from nuthin’-“

“I know,” she reassured him quickly, feeling another dopey smile nearly split her face in two. “Believe me Groose, I know, I just didn’t want to believe you were dead-“

“Well I’m not dead,” he harrumphed emphatically, placing his fists on his hips and staring down at her with a particularly fierce scowl. “One second we were battlin’ zombies or whatever and the next, I wake up in the middle of the night in the river on the bottom of the cliff-“

“It wasn’t night time, I just made the sun go down with Flat’s song. And you were in the river! Ugh, I must’ve knocked you in there by accident and then you washed downstream before I could find you! How did you know where I was?”

“Pierre told me you’d gone on without me. I climbed back up the cliff by stabbing him with my-“

“Pierre told you?! How did he find you, I thought they couldn’t move-“

“They can’t, but that dumb song they taught us is actually-“

“You played a song?! Without anyone making you?! Groose, I’m so proud!”

“Oh sure, you get excited about that!”

Their frenzied, borderline incomprehensible conversation was momentarily stymied by a wave of relieved laughter. When they finally stopped, the silence was suddenly thick and awkward.

Marin smiled in spite of herself, content to stand there and watch him fiddle with his chain until his grin grew awkward and he began looking around uncomfortably.

“Uh… You ok?”

“Yeah,” she replied softly, feeling that lump of guilt crawl its way back up her throat. “Thank you for coming back for me.”

His brow furrowed in confusion. “Well duh. I wasn’t about to leave you here. We gotta finish your music thing, right? Make you a master or whatever? What’s gotten into you? You’re bein’ weird…”

She shrugged, averting her gaze and feeling her shame color her cheeks.

“Nothing, I just…” She let out a weary sigh and rubbed at her eyes. “I just want to say sorry… I guess… I mean, I drag you on this dumb quest just to make me happy and then you almost die and run all over the freaking countryside to save me, and-“

“Whoa,” Groose cut in, looking stern. “I never ‘almost died’, alright, I just fell in the river-“

“Yes, but I thought you did!” she blurted out, surprised at the way her voice cracked and her eyes stung. Groose gaped at her, jaw slack, and she averted her gaze again, feeling embarrassed.

"Look, I… I thought you were hurt or dead or had run away because you were mad at me for knocking you through that pillar, and I've just felt so guilty… I mean I hardly even know you, what right do I have to go dragging you around on this stupid adventure? We're supposed to be focusing on getting out of here, not… not my stupid music thing. I just… I'm sorry, ok?"

There was silence in the valley for a moment as Marin stared at the ground, struggling to regain control of herself, and Groose stared at her like she was some alien creature he was just seeing for the first time. Finally, he let out a sigh and looked away, rubbing the back of his neck with obvious discomfort.

“Hey, uh… Listen… You don’t need to go feelin’ bad about what happened to me, alright? We were both runnin’ around like headless chickens when those zombies popped up. Accidents happen, ok? We should just be grateful we’re even alive. And… I dunno about this ‘hardly even know me’ business. I mean, I get that I didn’t really know you existed until I saved you from that bird, but… I mean…”

His cheeks suddenly flared an unexpected red.

“You… You’re like… my friend, I guess. I mean, I feel comfortable around you. Even more than I do around my other friends. D-don’t laugh, ok?!”

She blinked at the intensity of the look he gave her, and she shook her head quickly.

“I’m not laughing… Wait, you really… You really think of me as a friend?”

It was his turn to look surprised. “Well, yeah. Of course I do. Heck, I don’t think I’ve laughed this much in a long time. You’re easy to be around. I guess I don’t feel like I have to impress you like my other friends.”

Marin frowned. “Why would you have to impress your other friends?”

He shot her an unreadable look, and for a moment she thought he wasn’t going to answer, but finally he sighed and scratched his head, looking despondent.

“Well, I guess Midna already knows, so it’s not really a secret… Look, I… I lied before. When you asked me what I was into, and I said I was one-hundred percent jock? Well… That’s not really true.

“See, before I moved here, I was kinda… a dork. My dad's a carpenter and my family's real poor. When we moved here, I decided I wanted my senior year of high school to be perfect, y'know? Like, I had a chance to reinvent myself, so I took it… And I tried my best to be a cool jock, the kind everyone likes and respects, ya know?”

He shrugged, letting out a self-deprecating laugh. “I guess it’s all kinda stupid now that I say it out loud. Like, cheesy high school drama clichés and whatnot. Eh, whatever… I guess I learned my lesson. After all, songs with only melodies are boring, right?”

He smirked at her and she flushed. Oh… she’d forgotten she called him that.

Still, here was a whole new side of Groose she hadn’t seen before… it didn’t really make sense, though. Cocking her head to the side, she asked softly, “But… Why did you think you had to try so hard to be cool? Ordon’s not such a bad place. I’ve only been here a week and I already feel like I’ve made a couple friends.”

Groose snorted derisively. “Oh come on, Marin, don’t tell me you don’t feel excluded too. Everyone else in our year had to deal with all that nonsense that happened last year and it’s like they’re in this special club now. I mean don’t get me wrong, I’m not sayin’ I wish I was part of it too, but like… I dunno, because I wasn’t involved in the shooting, it’s like I’ve been branded an outsider, y’know? Like I’ve had to work twice as hard at being accepted. Don’t you feel it too?”

Actually, yes, she did. Maybe she didn’t feel it as acutely as Groose did since she wasn’t trying so hard to reinvent herself like he was and hadn’t been there as long, but she definitely got the vibe there in her first week of classes that she wasn’t exactly ‘one of them’. Not that anyone was mean to her or treated her different, but there was a look they got in their eyes whenever something related to the shooting came up, and the students who were a part of it would exchange these furtive, knowing looks… She was grateful that she hadn’t been a part of that particular nightmare, but sometimes it made her feel left out. It was silly and absurd, but there it was.

Marin sighed, fiddling with the flute in her hand. Even with that particular barrier, however, Marin had still made friends who seemed to like her for her. She never felt like she had to put up a front for anybody like Groose had to. She had Medli and Makar from orchestra, then Link after he’d saved her life, and Sheik and Midna were so nice, and Aryll seemed fun, and Linebeck who was almost like a cool uncle…

And now, she had Groose.

Stepping closer, she put her hand on his shoulder and smiled up at him when he looked at her in confusion.

“Y’know Groose… I think maybe the reason you feel so excluded is because you’ve been trying so hard to be something you’re not.”

He scoffed. “Look, I know I said I secretly like math and junk, but I am still a jock. I wasn’t lyin’ about loving sports.”

“I know,” she replied. “But that’s not all you are. If you’d let everyone else see that from the beginning, I think you would have found yourself fitting in better. I think you’d have made friends- real friends- in no time. There’s a lot about the real you to like.”

He snorted. “Yeah? And why d’you say that?”

She shrugged. “Well, I like you.”

He stared at her for a moment, his face flaming scarlet, before he jerked his head away, mumbling something under his breath.

She giggled, reaching out and pulling him into a sideways hug. “You know, I think you’re right. I don’t think I’ve ever laughed as much as I have since I met you.”

He fended her off with a short chuckle. “Yeah yeah, whatever. This is getting’ sappy…”

At that, she laughed out loud.

“It’s been sappy! Were you not paying attention to this whole conversation?!”

“Well, whose fault is that?!”

“Yours!”

“What?! No way!”

"Yes, way!" She stuck her tongue out at him, and he shoved her away in response.

“Whatever, music freak. We’re wasting time. Are we gonna finish this dumb test of yours or not?”

“Absolutely!” she cheered, finally feeling like she was back to her old self. She punched her fist into the air dramatically and called out, “Forward, march!”

Chuckling to himself, Groose followed her lead without question, though the two continued playfully shoving and verbally jabbing each other all the way to the mouth of the cave as if they’d been best friends all their lives.

They didn’t stop until they noticed the shimmering figure floating in the air before the cave’s entrance.

“So,” came the familiar drawl of the ghost of Flat the Younger, his form barely visible in the brilliant afternoon sun. “You yet live, do you?”

Marin and Groose exchanged significant looks. Well, this was it then… the end of their journey. Nodding his head, Groose silently told her to take the lead; this was her quest, after all.

Clearing her throat, Marin stepped closer and met Flat’s verdant, fiery gaze with a level look of her own.

“Yes. We’ve passed your test and here we are. Now admit that I’m a master.”

“What are you blathering about?” Flat sneered imperiously. “Your test hasn’t even begun yet. It waits for you within the cave behind me.”

Marin stared. “But… But what about all the stuff we went through getting here? The mummies, the scarecrows, the Sun Song…”

“Yeah, and what about those freaky lizard dudes in that castle?!” Groose butted in angrily. “Those things almost killed me!”

“If that wasn’t part of my test then what was it?!”

Flat’s ethereal gaze traveled between both teens for a silent moment before he shrugged and said, “I haven’t the foggiest idea what you’re talking about.”

“Listen here, you little-!” Groose began threateningly, but Marin stuck out an arm and caught him by the chest, shooting him a dangerous look. He glowered at her, but stepped back, muttering murderously under his breath.

“Fine,” she spat at Flat, feeling her irritation smoldering inside; not part of her test! Groose had almost died for no reason?! She could kill this little creep! Y’know… If he wasn’t already dead. “So then what is my test, oh great Master?”

She made the title as scathing as she could manage.

His mustache twitched, but other than that he gave no sign that her tone affected him at all. Regarding her silently for a moment, he finally turned his back to the teens to face the cave and consider.

“…I did not lie. These… These trials you passed through, they do not relate to your test, not directly, and I did not know exactly what you would face in coming here… Yet I had to be sure that you possessed the fortitude for your true trial. I am confident now that you do, if you truly overcame the difficulties that were placed before you. For your test, for this last, great trial, you have but one goal… You must enter this cave a deliver a message for me to my brother, Sharp.”

Rather than tell him to deliver his own message like she wanted to, she collected herself and asked, calmly, what the message was.

“It is a song,” Flat replied, still not looking at them. “A song of my own invention, a Song of Storms… I composed it myself after… after he betrayed me and all we stood for. It is a song of turbulence, of rage. When you see him, you must play my song, and when you do, tell him: the thousand years of raindrops summoned by my song are my tears. The thunder that strikes the earth is my anger! Tell him… that is all I ask of you.”

Marin opened her mouth in surprise, but then hesitated and closed it. The Song of Storms… was this a magical song, like the Sun Song? When she played it would something happen? Was that the purpose of playing it for his brother? Did he hope that it would reconcile them in some way? Or was he just pouting and making her play the messenger in some silly sibling rivalry?

Regardless, the task itself didn’t seem that difficult. Play a song for some ghost in a cave. Well, she’d do it. She’d come too far to turn back now.

When she agreed, Flat turned back to face her and she was surprised to see the emotion on his face. It as anger, but… it was sorrow, too. A sort of heart-broken fury that should have looked comical on the ghost’s sallow face, and yet… it didn’t.

The song was longer than the Sun Song, but it wasn’t difficult. Strangely enough, it almost felt like a waltz, only the song was a tad too jagged and short. She played it a few times under Flat’s scrutiny just to be sure she had it down pat before he gave her a grudging nod of acceptance. She passed his standards, it would seem.

As the two teens moved to pass the almost invisible ghost and enter the cave, he stopped them one final time.

“Beware,” he called out, his voice reedy and high but filled with caution. “Sharp does not brook intrusion lightly. He is… protective… of his domain. Darkness is his ally, and he will surely try to drag you down in it with him. My song may save you, but you must find a storm within yourself powerful enough to blow his curse away. Channel that into your music, and he will see that you have no cause to fear the dark.”

Turning to ask him what he meant, she was surprised to find he was gone.

“Is it just me, or does all of this sorta make your skin crawl?” Groose asked from beside her. His hand had tightened on his chain and he was glaring into the darkness of the cave menacingly.

Marin nodded in silent agreement but found herself wondering what she'd do in Flat's place.

“Do you have any siblings, Groose?”

He shook his head. “Nah. I’m an only child. You?”

“No…” She took a few steps closer to the cave. “I wonder what it must feel like to be betrayed by your brother.”

“It probably sucks,” Groose offered, frowning heavily. “If I were him, I’d want to get my revenge too.”

Revenge? Is that what this was? Marin had her doubts. Regardless, standing out here was only wasting more time. Exchanging one last look with Groose and drawing courage from his own confidant nod, she adjusted her grip on her flute and stepped into the cave, her feet splashing in the shallow river.

The light vanished almost instantly, and yet she could still see. The cave wasn’t deep at all; in fact, the house with the mummies may have been larger. The water pooled around the center of the cave, the source of the spring, and in the middle sat what looked like a broken chunk of rock that had once extended from floor to ceiling, wide enough that it almost looked like a table or an altar. The water was cold against her legs and the skirt of her yellow sundress clung to her thighs in sodden clumps. Licking her lips, she turned to Groose, taking comfort in the fact that she wasn’t alone. He was shooting the room a dubious look, but met her gaze and nodded again. He was staying right there.

A gust whispered past her, sending shivers down her spine and playing sounds throughout the cave as it whistled through the rock formations. It almost sounded like a chorus of voices hiding somewhere in the shadows. She felt the hair on her arms begin to rise.

“Who is this? What business have you here?” a voice demanded from out of the darkness. It was sharp and rough and seemed to resonate from every direction at once. Groose shifted uncomfortably at her side.

“This is no place for ones so full of life such as you,” the voice continued in a coarse whisper, and Marin thought she saw something flicker out of the corner of her eye, only when she turned her head, she saw nothing.

“Or perhaps… you wish to join the dead? That is fine…”

Pressure seemed to exert itself on Marin then, as though a heavy blanket had been thrown over her shoulders. She staggered unexpectedly but held her ground. Her foot brushed against something in the shallow water, and she turned down to see that she and Groose were surrounded by submerged skulls, the hollow gazes of which all seemed to be pointing to them.

Finally, he appeared, floating above the broken chunk of rock, an ethereal figure so reminiscent of his brother Flat that for a moment she thought it was him. Only there were subtle differences; Sharp was shorter than his brother, stockier, and though both had flames where their eyes should have been, Flat’s gaze was never so cold, so emotionless. Sharp’s ghostly skin drew taught across his skull as he smiled, a baton held high, the golden Triforce insignia on his chest rusted and bloody.

“If that is the case, then sleep gently to the melody of darkness that the great composer brother Sharp shall play… and join the ranks of the dead.”

The wind howled, the light grew dim, the skulls seemed to distort in the rippling water in some odd, macabre dance, and suddenly Marin was in pain.

She gasped and sunk to her knees in the water, the pressure crushing her as what felt like thousands upon thousands of needles began burrowing into her flesh, into her mind. She grabbed wildly at the wall beside her, struggling to rise back onto her feet, but the pain… Light, but the pain…!

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Groose on all fours, the tip of his pompadour dragging in the water as he struggled for breath, sweat glistening all over his body, his eyes wide and bloodshot. He was doing no better than she was. If they couldn’t overcome this… If they didn’t fight back…

Hopelessness overwhelmed her then and she had to throw every ounce of her willpower into making sure she continued to breathe. She could feel death coming, feel the icy breath the back of her neck… What was this? Goddesses, what was happening? This song, this melody of darkness Sharp was composing… it had no notes, no actual tune, no sound reached her ears over the howling of the wind, and yet the ground seemed to tremble in a steady bass dirge, her heart thudded to keep time, her panting breath mingled with Groose’s to form the last harmony she’d ever hear on this earth… And as she looked at her friend, she felt that same burning sadness, that harrowing loathing, that had nearly consumed her when she thought she’d let him die, and she turned her gaze on Sharp, feeling her eyes burn.

Flat had told her to find a storm inside herself. Well, she’d found it. She wouldn’t die like this, and neither would Groose.

She couldn’t bring herself to rise, but it didn’t matter; crouched down pathetically, half-submerged in the river, Marin brought the flute to her lips and blew, the Song of Storms coming to her as easily as if she’d played it a hundred times. Though she could hardly hear the notes over the howling of the wind, she shoved every ounce of righteous anger she had into them, letting her fury mingle with Flat’s, and a storm began to blow.

Sharp’s fiery eyes widened in shock.

The wind changed. No longer did it seem to be pushing her and Groose backward, dragging them into the river; now it surged wildly throughout the cave, creating a vortex-like a hurricane with Sharp at the center. The ghost flinched as though struck, and suddenly rain was pelting Marin's skin, stinging like nettles against her exposed arms and cheeks. Stunned, she looked up at the cave’s ceiling but saw no clouds. Where was the rain coming from? And how was it growing stronger?

The wind picked up and the rain intensified as a peal of thunder struck the air and the ground shook, light flashing from somewhere out of sight. The pressure that had engulfed her earlier suddenly vanished and Marin fought her way to her feet, feeling Groose do the same at her side as the two stared in awe at the scene unfolding before them. Millions of raindrops whipped into a tempest within the cave, Sharp's body frozen in the center as it writhed in agony, and to Marin's shock, she could hear the song. The Song of Storms, the one she'd played, echoing throughout the cave… only she wasn't playing it any longer. It almost seemed like the wind rushing through the rocks and stalagmites was whistling Flat’s melody, but that was impossible… right?

Another peal of thunder shook the cave and Sharp threw his head back with a roar, howling maddeningly at the center of his hurricane, and then in a crash and an explosion of wind, all was still.

Sharp was gone.

Marin stood rooted to the spot, supporting herself on the cave wall, her entire body soaked and her hair a veritable bird nest. Pale-faced and slack-jawed, she turned to her companion to see him mirroring her pose on the opposite wall, his hair plastered to his face, covering one eye. He met her gaze with a startled one of his own, but before either could speak the water level of the river began to rise dramatically, spurring the two to hastily splash their way out of the cave before they were washed away.

Floundering up on shore, the two teens turned and collapsed onto their backs on the bank of the river, staring up at the bright blue sky and letting the sun begin to dry their sodden clothes.

After a moment, Groose broke the silence.

“Wow.”

“Yeah.”

“That was…”

“Nuts?”

“Insane.”

“Suicidal.”

“Awesome.”

She turned and flashed him an exhausted smile. “You actually enjoyed that, didn’t you?”

He guffawed loudly. “Well… At least we have a cool story to tell.”

“I guess…”

They were silent again for a moment, both reveling in the fact that they were alive before Groose turned to her again and asked, “So did you pass the test or what?”

Before she could answer, she felt her skin prickle as though something was watching her.

Rising to a sitting position, she found herself facing the shimmering, nearly invisible ghost of Sharp the Elder floating silently above the river. She felt Groose tense beside her, but strangely she felt no fear.

Something in his countenance had changed… His eyes. They looked sunken and haggard, but no longer devoid of emotion. Quietly, his fiery eyes regarded her before finally, after what felt like an eternity, he spoke.

“You who do not fear the dead… How is it you came by that song?”

Marin swallowed, taking her time to organize her thoughts before she answered.

“I’m Marin Gull, of Koholint. Your brother Flat sent me to play that song for you, and give you a message. He said if I did, I’d be worthy to be called a Master musician, like you two.”

He stared at her for a moment, then asked quietly, “And… the message?”

She cleared her throat, feeling uncomfortable. “He said… He said, ‘the thousand years of raindrops summoned by my song are my tears. The thunder that strikes the earth is my anger.’”

She half expected him to get angry, but instead, he tipped his head back and sighed.

“Oh Flat, my dear brother… Forgive me…”

Exchanging brief looks with Groose again, the two clambered unsteadily to their feet and regarded the mourning ghost in silence, giving him his moment of quiet despair. Finally, he sighed again and turned his attention back to Marin.

“…I should thank you. You have broken the curse over me with my brother’s song. We dead should not linger here in this land… Thank you for delivering his message to me. I feel freer now than I have in thousands of years."

Marin nodded, accepting his thanks but saying nothing. What was there to say? What was left was for him to speak to his brother- they could handle the rest themselves. Her part here was done.

Groose spoke up, sounding uncomfortable drawing attention to himself.

“So, uh… Sharp. Did she do it? Is she a Master now, like you?”

He flinched slightly when Sharp turned his gaze on him, but the ghost remained where he was, pondering slightly.

Finally, he turned back to Marin and said, “I do not know what my brother was playing at, telling you you could become a Master by fulfilling a quest. Perhaps he was merely using you to help free me from the curse I placed upon myself… I do not know. Regardless, there is no one task a person can perform to become a Master. That is not how it is done.”

Groose looked angry and opened his mouth to argue, but Marin forestalled him.

“So then… What do I have to do to become a Master?”

"A true Master is one who can touch the hearts of another through melody. It is not a destination, but a way of being. Young musician, this day, through my brother's song, you have touched my heart and blown away the darkness. There can be no doubt- you already are a Master."

Marin’s heart seemed to swell within her chest and she felt tears stinging at her eyes. She’d done it… The legendary Composer Brothers accepted her as a Master… She would never doubt herself again… This day could not possibly get any better…

“I must depart soon, young ones, but before I go… Master musician, I would ask a boon of thee.”

Blinking past her tears, Marin nodded hastily to show Sharp she agreed. For the man who named her a Master? She’d do anything. Even if he had just tried to kill her.

“My brother and I… Our work was not completed in life. Because of my arrogance and pride, Flat’s great work came to naught. I would ask you, then, Marin- you who freed me from the darkness, you who worked in my brother’s stead to save me… Would you finish our work? Take this song that I will give you, our last melody as the Composer Brothers, and carry on our legacy in our names? Bring our research to the world… I will not have Flat’s greatest achievements be swallowed by my darkness. Please…”

Marin’s brain had stopped working. This… This was more than she had ever imagined… She’d be hyperventilating right now if she could make herself breathe.

Once again, Groose spoke up.

“So what, she’ll be like… the Composer Sister now?”

Marin’s face flushed red, absolutely mortified that Groose would have the audacity to call her that in front of Sharp himself, but the ghost nodded emphatically.

“Yes. If she is to finish what we started, then she must be one of us. For the glory of Hyrule… for the honor of my brother, Flat… Marin, Composer Sister, listen well to the song I shall play for you- a song of life, a song of restoration, a Song of Healing… Take this melody, and in our names, change the world…”

As the music washed over her, Marin felt tears leaking down her face one last time. This… This was more than she’d ever dreamed of… She met Groose’s eyes once again and saw him shoot her a proud smile, and she grinned back stupidly in response, painfully aware of how crazy she must look, crying her eyes out and grinning like an idiot, soaking wet with her hair in wild disarray as a ghost serenaded her, but she didn’t care.

She had a goal, now, a mission given to her by her greatest heroes, and she had been accepted as one of them. She could kiss Groose for his lack of tact and speaking out of turn. She’d never been so happy in her entire life.

Maybe this day wasn’t so terrible after all. 


	25. Cold, Fat Raindrops

Three steps from the wall, Ralph spun and brought his magical blue sword slicing majestically through the air, cleaving the small, dark, impish creature in twain. As it vanished in a puff of acrid smoke, he turned back to swat a screeching bat out of the sky with almost bored indifference, relishing the weight of the weapon in his hands and the glory of the battle around him.

Ralph was in his element.

He had known for as long as he could remember that he was destined for the life of a hero. The proof of it was there before him - though he possessed no formal training in weaponry, Ralph still danced the dance of death among his foes, rending the bodies of monstrous creatures apart before the might of his mystical blade as though he’d been doing this for years.

After all, that was the way of stories, was it not? The protagonists always found themselves capable of wielding their weapons with exemplary skill and fortitude.

With a peal of jubilant laughter, Ralph twirled his blade and struck down two more bats before turning around and examining the windy courtyard. There was only one monster left, and it was trying to flee back onto the bridge that had carried Ralph there to the courtyard at the base of the tall, spiraled tower.

Smirking, Ralph drew his odd spiked hook-chain from his pocket, his jacket billowing back in the wind with perfectly timed dramatic flair, and took steady aim at the creature. The moment that he fired, however, the imp happened to glance fearfully back over his shoulder just in time to see what Ralph was doing and at the last second dodged to the side, avoiding the hook that would have stabbed him in his cowardly back. The imp sneered and made an obscene hand gesture, waving his tiny pitchfork in the air as he turned back to make his would-be escape.

Instead, the sharp projectile that had missed the imp embedded itself into the bark of a sturdy tree, and with a laugh, Ralph was jerked forward, his feet leaving the ground as he flew at high speed through the air towards the bridge. The imp stared at the chain in confusion, then turned back to Ralph just in time to see him fly passed.

With a brief tug, the imp was decapitated, and Ralph came to a stop at the trunk of the tree. Calmly detaching his spike, he pocketed the strangely useful weapon and brushed a strand of hair away from his face. The late afternoon sun shone through the copious pillowy clouds above him for a moment to illuminate him in all of his triumphant glory.

Now that Ralph had been given this magnificent opportunity to demonstrate to the world who he knew himself to be, he was going to seize every available chance presented to him. Explore a mystical ruined palace? Of course! Rescue a damsel in a tower? It would be his pleasure! Slay monstrous nightmare spawn with his mighty blade? You couldn’t pay him to say no! It was even better now that a certain beautiful blonde girl wasn’t showing him up every step of the way.

Ralph frowned. Thoughts of Aryll inevitably lead to thoughts of his most recent companion, Linebeck. What exactly was taking him so long?

They had been separated after he’d taken an unfortunate fall through the crumbling floor, and the last time Ralph had seen him, he’d been desperately trying to shimmy up a vine and climb his way back into the palace. Ralph wasn’t the least bit worried about whether he’d managed to get up, though. Linebeck had proven the year before that he was a useful man to have around in a tight situation.

No, what bothered Ralph was how long it was taking for the two to meet back up. With a forlorn sigh, Ralph turned back to the large tower in front of him and gazed longingly up at the top.

The masked boy had informed them that whatever their quest was, it involved someone being in danger. This tower here was the tallest structure still standing in the ruins of this great palace; the damsel in distress must be waiting for her heroes at the very top, just as in the old stories. After all, they had learned this night that the old stories had a way of being true. Linebeck would probably be making his way here, too.

He wondered if she’d be beautiful… The stories always said they were beautiful. If things didn’t work out with Aryll due to her unfortunate temperament, he may get a second chance here with an actual princess.

He was lost in his thoughts for a moment as he idly ambled back towards the entrance to the tall, pale stone tower, kicking pebbles every so often as he absently picked his way through the weeds that grew through the cracked stone. The clouds overhead were darker than they had been before, some of them converging into a hazy gray fog; it was likely going to rain soon. Linebeck sure was taking a long time… Maybe he ought to go and look for the old chap. He may even get a chance to defeat a few more of those monsters and demonstrate how heroic he truly was.

The sound of approaching footsteps greeted his ears from somewhere over to his left and Ralph prepared himself, hefting his sword in one hand and deftly drawing his steampunk grapple hook in the other, aiming the spike towards the adjacent alleyway. If it was another one of those imps, he’d have a nasty surprise waiting for him.

Instead of an otherworldly demon, however, he was met with the winded, sweaty countenance of Linebeck the security guard as he came bursting into the clearing, the pale blue rod clutched in his hands. When their eyes landed on each other, twin cries of delight and relief echoed from both males and they hastened to one another’s side.

There was no tear-filled embrace or overly emotional reunion, but as the two males reunited and Linebeck sagged forward to lean on his knees, he tilted his head and cracked one eye open to gasp out a weak, “Well, whaddya know, the Runt’s alive.”

The grin that twisted his face let Ralph know there was no lingering animosity between them.

“Naturally,” he preened, resting his blade on his shoulder as though to remind Linebeck of its existence. “I had to fell my fair share of nasty beasties, but getting here was not at all a difficult task. What of you, then? I see you managed to get back alive.”

Linebeck shrugged, standing back up and resting his arm against the side of the building. “Oh, yeah… I just shimmied on up, took a leisurely stroll, and almost got eaten by a dragon. No big deal.”

Ralph’s grin faded a little as his eyes grew round and shiny.

“A… A dragon? You saw a dragon? As in an actual, fire-breathing, man-eating reptilian god of death and destruction?”

“Yup.”

“And did you slay the creature?!”

Linebeck snorted. “Did I slay it? With what, this stick? No, I ran for my life and managed to get away. I got lucky, too. That thing was about three seconds away from roasting me alive.”

Ralph could have wept for joy. It was still alive! That meant he still had a chance to slay it himself! What more noble calling could possibly exist?! He could practically hear the legends now- Ralph the Magniloquent and his trusty blade, Dullahan, slayers of the Black Dragon of the North… It was all he’d ever dreamed and more!

Ralph didn’t realize that a maniacal grin had taken possession of his face until Linebeck gave his shoulder an uneasy prod, his graying eyebrows drawn together in consternation.

“Hey, uh… you alright there, Runt? You’re looking a little… insane…”

“Oh, I am better than alright, Linebeck," Ralph gasped, delight and excitement coursing through his young seventeen-year-old body like an electric current, making his every cell tingle. "Where is this dragon? Point me at it and I shall face him head-on and bring back his head as a trophy!"

"Whoa!" the older man shouted, snatching Ralph's makeshift cape as he made to move past him and jerking him back, eliciting a strangled ‘urk!’ from the younger boy. “There isn’t going to be any ‘pointing’ of anybody, or trying to kill the dragon, or whatever! That thing could turn you into a lump of ash from twenty yards away! Your sword might as well be a toothpick compared to that thing! You got a death wish or something?”

“The only thing here that yearns for death is my mighty blade!” Ralph roared emphatically, holding his sword aloft and forcing Linebeck to jump backward with a yelp of alarm. "It cries out for battle to slake its bloodlust! I must face this mighty foe and bring peace back to the- ow! That was uncalled for!”

“It was very called for,” Linebeck grunted wryly as he watched the younger boy rub his head where Linebeck had smacked him with the ice rod. “You march against that dragon and you’re dead. I promised myself I was gonna help get you idiots out of this mess if it was the last thing I did, so you can bet I’m not about to let you play Beowulf and solo a giant lizard. Besides, you seem to have forgotten that we have more important things to worry about.”

Ralph, who’d opened his mouth to fire back an angry retort, hesitated when the older man pointed a finger behind them toward the tall tower.

Oh, right… There was a person in need somewhere at the top. If they didn’t hurry, their damsel was going to die…

At that moment, Ralph felt torn. What was he to do in this situation?! His heroic bloodline was calling him down two disparate paths! On one hand, saving a damsel in distress was his obvious decision, as protecting innocent, defenseless women was the sacred, solemn duty of all heroes everywhere, and allowing one to perish due to inaction was so blasphemous a thought that it literally gave him heart palpitations, and yet… There was a dragon on the loose. An actual dragon. When would he ever get a chance like this again, a chance to truly prove his worth?!

Sorrow settled in his gut as he slowly realized what must be done. The chance to try his hand at slaying a dragon was truly a dream come true… and yet if he failed to save the damsel, all would be for naught. He must swallow his pride, as all great heroes do, and put the safety of the damsel ahead of all else, even his own personal glory…

Besides, the dragon was likely to attack him as he made to get the damsel out of the palace anyway. By following Linebeck up the tower, he could kill two birds with one stone. Er, metaphorically - the dragon he would kill, the damsel he would most certainly keep alive. Besides, killing the dragon would look even more impressive with a damsel at his side anyway. It was perfect.

Sighing as though it were a great travesty and hiding his giddiness at the plan, Ralph lowered his blade and nodded.

“You are right, Linebeck… It would be cowardice to abandon our maiden now. We must complete our objective first before we play. Lead on.”

Linebeck looked floored.

“Wait, really? You’re giving in to common sense just like that?”

“Of course!” Ralph exclaimed, shooting Linebeck a bewildered look. “Did you think I would abandon the lady in need?! What sort of uncouth cur do you take me for?!”

Linebeck mouthed the words ‘uncouth cur’ for a moment with a strange expression before shaking himself and nodding the duo forward with a curt, “Alright. Let’s hurry up then, I want to get out of here as fast as possible and find your friends.”

“Righto!” Ralph chirped amicably, casting one last surreptitious look at the darkening skies around them. No sign on the dragon yet, but it would come. It would come…

For once, Ralph was grateful for the desiccation of the palace grounds when they entered the tower. The building was essentially empty of all save for weeds and grass just like everywhere else they had been on this floating castle, but he and Linebeck would have been lost in the darkness if not for the gaping holes in the walls that flooded the place with sunlight.

At the end of the room they spotted a staircase that wound its way up to the next floor, and so it was to that that the duo immediately headed. The stairs wound along the circular perimeter of the room, and Ralph worried for a moment at their structural integrity, but though every now and then they found a missing step or one that was partially cracked and broken, none of them gave away underfoot, and the two quickly made their way up to the next floor.

The second floor looked the same as the first, as did the third after it, and Ralph found himself feeling more than slightly uncomfortable as the two men pressed on in silence. In spite of himself, Ralph’s mind drifted back to the last thing the two had been talking about before they’d been separated- Linebeck’s little outburst about the war and his admitted prejudice against Labrynnians like himself.

This wasn’t anything new to Ralph, actually. The war had been bad on all fronts, and even though casualties had been far lower on the side of the Hylian Alliance than they had been on Labrynna itself, there was still a certain level of animosity to be found within the allied nations toward his countrymen, particularly among a certain age group.

He felt terrible when he’d learned that Link and Aryll had lost a father and an uncle in the conflict, but he hardly felt guilty. If anything, he felt as though he could share their pain, but he chose not to mention this to them regardless - there were those who seemed to believe that the losses Labrynnians suffered in the conflict were somehow less worthy of comment than ones suffered by Hyruleans, or Terminians, or anyone else. Not that he thought Link and Aryll were this way, however… it was better safe than sorry.

It was for this reason that Ralph chose not to broach the subject with Linebeck again as they climbed the tower. If the man had truly fought in the war then he reserved the right to keep his own counsel, as did anyone else. Yet as the duo headed towards a doorway on the third floor that led to the next staircase, this one that continued along on the outside of the building, Ralph was surprised when Linebeck stopped him.

“Listen, Runt- uh, Ralph… There’s, uh… There’s something I’ve been meaning to say to, uh, to you…”

Ralph cocked his head to the side, half-suspecting what it would be but opting not to interrupt. Linebeck looked uncomfortable enough as it was.

When Ralph said nothing, Linebeck swallowed thickly and looked away, examining the room around him absently as he spoke, his hands picking at the front of his dirty wife-beater.

“I, uh… Look, I said some stuff back there about Labrynnians that I… I really shouldn’t have said. I know it doesn’t really excuse me, but after the war, I… I’ve kinda been carrying a lot of baggage around with me and it sometimes catches me off-guard. We’ve all been under a lot of stress tonight, and I guess all that pressure just kinda… made me burst. Look, the point is, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have taken all that out on you, and I… Well, I hope you can forgive me. You’re an alright guy.”

He swallowed again, shooting Ralph a fleeting glance before returning his gaze resolutely to the cracked walls and ceiling around them.

Ralph sighed. Well, it looked like there was no avoiding the discussion after all… he should have assumed a heart-to-heart was coming soon; all heroes had to have at least one eventually.

“Linebeck, please… You needn’t apologize. I understand. Besides, technically, I shouldn't even be considered Labrynnian at all. I wasn’t upset with you for what you said, and you’re allowed to have your own opinions. Let’s just move on and let bygones be bygones, hmm?”

Ralph turned and exited out onto the balcony, letting the warm sunlight wash over him as the renewed wind threatened to tear his jacket away. The light wasn’t as bright as it was before, and the wind seemed to be pulling with even greater determination. Oh yes, a storm was indeed coming…

Linebeck exited behind him, and together the two began to climb along the outside of the tower. Surreptitiously, Ralph began to scan the horizon for signs of the dragon.

“You’re not Labrynnian?” Linebeck asked from behind.

Ralph shrugged.

“Well, yes, I am- my entire family has been Labrynnian for further back than we can remember. My parents, my grandparents, my great-grandparents, my great-great-grandparents… But I was raised in Hyrule by my aunt. I don’t even remember my parents at all. They died in the war.”

As he continued searching the clouds for his foe, he caught the stricken look that passed over Linebeck’s face.

“O-oh. I see. I, uh… I’m sorry to hear that.”

Ralph shot the older man a sympathetic smile.

“I know what you’re thinking, but no. They were not killed by the Hylian Alliance. So many people seem to forget that there was a war raging in Labrynna before the coalition forces were sent in to return the peace.

“I know how Hyrule views the war, I learned about it in school. History has the oddest way of painting conflicts as if they occurred between good guys and bad guys, and the bad guys are always the losers. But that’s not what happened in Labrynna. It was a civil war - patriots against revolutionaries. The revolutionaries were sick of the way the government was abusing its power and sought to win more power in the hands of the people. They were trying to build a better future for themselves and their children. Not such a terrible thing, really, when you think about it.”

Linebeck had grown silent, and yet for some reason, Ralph was still talking. He usually didn’t talk about things like this. He preferred people to judge him for who he was, not who his parents were. Yet, the words were still tumbling out of his mouth as he swept the clouds for his foe.

“My parents were part of that anarchic revolution. Funny- my aunt claims that generations back, we were lords and ladies of distinguished houses, maybe even related to the royal family. I don’t know that that’s true, but it makes me wonder why they fought for that side… Well, anyway, when the fighting started they sent me off to live with Auntie Ambi in Ordon, and a few months later we received the news that they were killed by patriots in a skirmish. My aunt doesn’t like to talk about them. To Hyruleans, they were the enemies, the bad guys, but to us, they were family. Even though I didn’t know them, I… can’t think of them as anything but my parents.”

The staircase ended and they found themselves entering the fourth floor, this one every bit as empty as the previous three. They were nearing the top, however. Crossing the room, they exited onto the last balcony and began the last ascent.

“Don’t misunderstand me- I don’t blame Hyrule and the other nations for getting involved. Honestly, while the revolution’s ideals may have been good, I can’t say that a war was the best way to go about it. Then again, I wasn’t there. Maybe they thought it was their only option. Maybe they thought it was worth it. Regardless, I doubt very much that they intended to draw in soldiers from other countries to die for their problems. Still… I suppose, while I’m sad I never got to know them, I… respect their decision. To put your life on the line for something you believe in… It’s pretty heroic.”

“Is that why you’re so obsessed with being a hero?” Linebeck’s voice sounded strangely gruff, and Ralph had to strain his ears to hear him over the howling of the wind through the holes in the walls. “Because your parents were heroes and you want to be more like them?”

Ralph shuffled uncomfortably. “Did you just call my parents heroes, Linebeck?”

He expected the older man to scoff and change the subject, but to his surprise, the janitor met his eyes with a shrug.

“I may not like Labrynna, but that doesn’t mean that everyone from there is a waste of space. Honestly, when we showed up to end the fighting, we were supposed to be backing the patriot forces, but we wound up in skirmishes with them almost as much as we did with the rebels. By the time the war ended, both sides of the inter-Labrynnian conflict had devolved into pockets of bloodthirsty mongrels. There were no more ideals, no more reasons for fighting; the civil war transformed into a war against the outsiders who had invaded to put a stop to the bloodshed. I think in the end, all we did was bring about more killing. Maybe things would have been different if the idealistic folk like your parents had survived.

“You say Hyruleans vilify the losers, and you’re right, we do. But I don’t exactly glorify the winners in return. I’m not even sure that there were winners. Just a bunch of idiots killing each other for no reason. But just because our armies were idiots collectively… I guess that doesn’t mean that all the soldiers were. I knew some soldiers who were good men, and some who were little more than beasts. I don’t doubt that the same is true about the other side. You don’t have to hide your pride for your parents, Ralph. Not even from me. They saved you, after all, when they sent you away.”

Ralph didn’t say anything else until they reached the top of the staircase. Honestly, he didn’t trust himself to do so. Nothing Linebeck said had been revolutionary- honestly, he was proud of his parents, and they were the reason behind his obsession with being a hero. He wasn’t exactly hiding his pride in them, really, he just didn’t want to cause issues with friends like Link and Aryll who’d also lost loved ones in the conflict, loved ones who’d fought for the other side.

Ralph didn’t blame them, they had a right to be angry, but… Somehow, hearing those words from Linebeck, from a man who was for all intents an enemy soldier, brought an unexpected level of peace to him. Reassurance that his love for his parents wasn’t purely selfish, that it was ok to be proud of them for dying for what they believed in, for wanting a better future for him.

He tried to discretely wipe his eyes, but he didn’t think he managed to avoid Linebeck noticing. Thankfully, the older man kept silent.

Taking a deep breath, Ralph steeled himself. This was not a moment to be lost in tragic stories of the past… No, this was a moment for Ralph to stand up and be all that his parents had hoped he could be. He’d found a better future, a better future in Hyrule, and thanks to their sacrifice, he was here now, this day, to fulfill his heroic destiny and finally be someone they could be proud of…

He was going to slay a dragon.

…Well, he was going to save a damsel, which was also heroic, but hopefully, along the way, he could slay a dragon as well. Fingers crossed and all that.

Finally, the duo arrived at the top of the staircase, which ended at a crumbling balcony much like the ones below. Half of the railing was gone, but Ralph paid this no heed; to their right stood the open doorway which led into the heart of the darkened room. They had reached the top of the tower. The damsel waited inside.

Exchanging significant looks with Linebeck, the two shared a nod and squared their shoulders, ready to make their dramatic entrance. Ralph noticed that Linebeck looked a little fidgety; was he perhaps nervous to meet the damsel? Perhaps he found himself wondering if she was truly as beautiful as stories claimed she should be. Well, Linebeck was no Prince Charming, especially in that sweaty tank top he was left in after shedding his white button-up back in the forest, but Ralph supposed that if the damsel turned out to be too old for him, he may as well let Linebeck take his chance.

Swallowing thickly, Ralph stepped into the room and almost instantly his eyes zeroed in on the object of his search, the only object in a spacious, circular room otherwise as empty as the four floors below.

The sleeping figure of a little boy on a bed.

About a thousand questions exploded through Ralph’s mind at that moment as he approached the sleeping child, his legs stiff and numb, his gait ungainly, but the only thing he managed to push past all of his grunts and splutters was, “What… What in the Goddesses’ name is this?!”

Before he knew it, he was standing at the side of the child’s bed, staring down at his sleeping form in poorly restrained outrage and disappointment.

Linebeck was at his side, frowning quizzically.

“It’s a kid,” he grunted laconically as if that answered Ralph's question.

Ralph gave an over-exaggerated eye roll. “ _Obviously_ it’s a child, Linebeck, I meant what is it doing here?”

“It’s sleeping.”

“Argh!” Ralph howled, pacing away in a wide circle, his hands tearing fitfully at his hair. What… what was this?! What was going on?! Was this that masked boy’s doing?! Making a mockery of the sacred hero’s journey?! Everyone knew that to prove your worth, a hero had to save a damsel from a tower! A damsel! A beautiful young maiden, not this… this…!

“Quiet down, Runt, or you’ll wake the kid up,” Linebeck commented idly from where he stood at the boy’s bedside, gazing down at the child and studying his sleeping form as though he held the answer to some great mystery.

“Quiet down?!” Ralph practically shrieked, spinning on the spot and glaring murderously at Linebeck. “Oh yes, heaven forbid the child not be allowed to sleep in a monster-infested crumbling palace floating in midair! Good Farore, Linebeck, we’ve been had! This whole quest has been a sham! We’ve been played for fools!”

“Kid, what are you talking about?” Linebeck sighed, finally turning away from the – amazingly – still-sleeping child and shooting Ralph a bemused look.

“He’s a boy!” Ralph exploded, pointing at the kid with his sword as though to indicate who he was talking about.

“Yeah? And?”

“But…! But…! It was supposed to be a maiden! The masked kid said-!”

“Actually, all the masked kid said was that there was a ‘ginger’ in the tower, not a girl. We both just assumed it was a girl.”

“Gah!” Ralph screamed again, pacing away and rubbing his temples, trying to think. If there was no maiden in need of saving, and he had chosen to forgo the route of the dragon slayer, then how was he to ever prove to the gods that he was the Hero of Time?!

Linebeck had turned his attention back to the boy and was frowning down at him again, scratching the side of his unshaven cheek absent-mindedly. He muttered something that sounded like, “Where did you go, Red?”, though Ralph had no idea who Red was supposed to be. Finally, after what felt like an eternity of soul-crushing panic, Linebeck spoke again.

“Ralph, will you stop freaking out? Who cares if it’s a boy or a girl? They still need our help, alright? Let’s just get this over with.”

When all he got out of Ralph was a pained grimace, the older man rolled his eyes and added, “Saving a child is still a heroic act. Pull yourself together, Runt.”

Ralph opened his mouth to argue and hesitated. Actually… saving a child was a heroic act. Granted, it would be much better if it was a beautiful young maiden, but… well, beautiful young maidens had been giving him trouble today. Maybe it was better in the end that it was a young, defenseless boy who needed saving. Perhaps, upon rescuing him, the boy would then go on to idolize Ralph and become his apprentice. All the good champions of old had apprentices! This could still work!

“Ah… You’re right, Linebeck, of course… Forgive me… Um, yes, let us carry on and bring the child to safety! Er… is he still asleep?”

The two older males peered curiously down at the boy on the bed.

He was young, maybe five or six, with a mess of wild, red-orange hair and a splattering of freckles across his elfish face. He was wearing a faded orange t-shirt and a pair of old shorts that looked to be too small for him, as well as some scruffy tennis shoes that were so dirty they looked brown, and neither of the laces were tied. The bed had only a cover sheet and a pillow for dressing, and the boy had somehow managed to tangle the sheet around him like it was a cobra, the pillow lying under his right foot. He was lying on his back, his head tilted to one side, and he was drooling.

Remarkably, none of Ralph’s shouting had woken him from his slumber.

Extending the Ice Rod, Linebeck gave the sleeping boy a sharp tap.

“Hey. Hey kid. Wake up!”

The boy snorted and jerked away, yet remained asleep.

A look of horror and dawning comprehension crossed Ralph’s face.

"Oh, Goddesses… Linebeck, don't you see? The boy must have been placed in an enchanted slumber!”

The old security guard shot Ralph a disbelieving look.

“Do what now?”

“Isn’t it obvious?! We’ve learned tonight that all of the legends of old are true- this must be one of them come again to life before us! You must know the story, Linebeck! The one of the sleeping curse placed upon the youth in the high tower-!”

“You mean Sleeping Beauty? Isn’t that a Disney movie?”

“A Disney movie based upon a true legend! Look at him, though we’ve shouted and shaken him, he yet sleeps on! This must be a magical curse!”

Linebeck rubbed his lip thoughtfully.

“Well, normally I’d say you were nuts, but… well… Everything today has been kinda nuts. So what, somebody’s got to kiss the kid to wake him up?”

Ralph blanched; he hadn’t thought of that.

“Um, I suppose… Well, good luck with that, Linebeck.”

“What?! Me?! I ain’t kissing no kid!”

“We can’t let him stay in an enchanted sleep forever!”

“So then you kiss him!”

“What?! Me?! Preposterous!”

"Nuh-uh! I'm not being carted off to jail for pedophilia! This one's on you, Runt!"

“Why on earth should I have to do it, it was your idea!”

“It doesn’t matter!” Linebeck challenged, his face red and eyes darting around in panic. “It, uh, it… The kiss has to come from a hero! It says so in the story! So it’s got to come from you! You’re always saying that you’re the hero, right? This is it - your big test to prove that you’re the Hero of Time! If you kiss him and he wakes up, you’re the Hero!”

Ralph’s mouth worked, but no sound came out.

He… He was right. Linebeck was a solid man of hidden depths, but he was no hero of legend… Not like Ralph. Could this truly be it? The great test he had asked for when he’d demanded a quest of his own from the boy in the mask? Trust that devilish fiend to twist his words into something like this… But then, this is how it should be, no? In the stories, the hero must always face down a trial of unspeakable horror before he was acknowledged for who he was. The same was clearly happening for Ralph. Nothing he could have ever imagined was as terrible and disturbing as the task before him now… Kissing a drooling five-year-old boy.

Grimacing, he received an encouraging nod from Linebeck and stepped forward, staring down at the sleeping boy’s face as though it were a poisonous serpent.

He could do this… He could break the boy’s curse and bring him to safety… There was nothing to be embarrassed about, nothing creepy or perverse was going on… He wasn’t doing this because he enjoyed it, he was doing it to save a life. It was like CPR; he wouldn’t hesitate to breathe air into this child’s lungs if he had just pulled his limp body from a river, so why on earth should he hesitate now? Courage, Ralph… Be strong… Be quick… Be very, very quick…

Kneeling down gingerly, Ralph licked his lips, immediately wiped them off on his sleeve, grasped the edge of the bed in both hands, took several deep breaths, prayed to the Goddess Farore for courage, and slowly lowered his face to the boy’s…

When his lips were about three inches from contact, the sleeping child gave a snort, stretched his limbs awkwardly, and let his chocolate-colored eyes blink blearily open.

He was met with Ralph’s horrified face hovering inches above his own.

Both boys screamed in pure terror, and Ralph stumbled back with a grunt as the younger child’s fist connected painfully with his eye.

He fell back onto his butt, his sword clattering against the floor tiles where he’d tucked it into his belt. Dazed, he looked up in mute horror as the boy scrambled around on the bed, struggling with the sheet as he grabbed his pillow and hurled it at Ralph, still screaming.

“Ah! Aaaahhhhh! Weirdo! Freak! Stranger danger! Somebody help me, he’s trying to kiss me!”

“N-no, no, I’m not-!” Ralph struggled to defend himself, but the boy continued yelling, his eyes almost as wild as his messy hair.

“Stay away from me, you creep, or I’ll punch you in your other eye! I swear I will! Just try to kiss me again, you’ll regret it! I’ll beat you up! I’ll kill you with my own bare hands!”

“But I-!”

“Yeah, Ralph!” Linebeck cut in unexpectedly, placing himself in between Ralph and the boy on the bed with a poorly repressed grin on his face, making over as though he were protecting the child. “What kind of pervert goes around kissing sleeping little boys anyway?! Don’t worry, kid, I’ll keep you safe!”

The boy immediately latched on to Linebeck’s back and peered around the older man’s shoulder in fear, but from the laughter evident in Linebeck’s eyes, this was clearly amusing him more than it was anyone else.

A dark sort of fury built up inside of Ralph’s chest as mortification painted his face a bright pink, and the flustered teen sprang to his feet, straightening his sword and glaring at the two males in front of him.

“Enough!” he squawked indignantly, his voice an octave higher than he wanted it to be. “I wasn’t trying to kiss you, I was trying to awaken you from an enchanted sleep!”

The boy looked at Linebeck.

“What’s en-chan-ded mean?”

“It means magical, kid. We thought you were cursed or something.”

The boy’s eyebrows screwed up in a look of consternation that was purely comical. Outside, the wind picked up and something loud crashed out in the distance. All three males went still.

“What was that?” the boy whispered, holding on tighter to Linebeck’s back.

“Uh… Nothing. Don’t worry about it.” He shot Ralph a nervous look before turning around and facing the small child standing on the bed. “Look, we don’t have time to play twenty questions, alright? We need to get you out of here as fast as possible. It’s dangerous here. What’s your name, kid?”

“Uh, Leaf!” the boy replied, bouncing up and down anxiously on his toes. His eyes darted over to Ralph and he grew guarded. “Is he coming too?”

“Of course!” Ralph blustered indignantly, ignoring the way Linebeck mouthed the name ‘Leaf’ incredulously; the oddness of his name he could pass over, but he wasn’t sure he liked this kid and the accusation in his eyes. “I have to lead you, I’m the hero!”

The boy blinked, then he seemed to notice Ralph’s sword hanging at his waist for the first time. His eyes grew wide.

“Oh wow, you have a sword?!”

And just like that, all pretenses of being uncomfortable around Ralph vanished into thin air. The boy vaulted off the bed and scrambled over to Ralph, his brown eyes gleaming excitedly as he danced around the teen, touching his sword, tugging on his jacket, asking about a dozen questions, the words flying out of his mouth quicker and more forcefully than machinegun fire.

“Is it real? Can it cut stuff? Where’d you get it? I want a sword. Why is it blue? Is it heavy? Can I hold it? Do you know how to fight? Why are you wearing a cape? You look weird. Who’s that fat old guy? Where’s his shirt? Can we go outside? I don’t like it here, it’s cold.”

Ralph blinked in astonishment as the boy rambled on, the constant stream of questions issued from his mouth overwhelming him like a tidal wave. He’d given up on Ralph between one sentence and the next and was now bouncing around the room, taking in the bed in the center and the holes and cracks in the floors and walls with interest as he fired off about a hundred questions a minute.

He never paused for an answer and never stood still, and it occurred to Ralph for the first time that Leaf probably had some sort of hyperactivity disorder. His hands fidgeted at his clothes and his eyes zipped around from place to place so fast it was making him dizzy just to watch. A dull ache started to form in the back of Ralph’s mind.

And to think, it could have been a princess…

A roar sounded from somewhere outside, so loud and powerful that the building shook and dust rained from the ceiling.

“What was that?!” Leaf exclaimed, looking both fearful and excited.

“A dragon,” Ralph breathed, feeling elation blooming inside of him. Maybe he couldn’t save a princess, but the dragon he could still slay…

Linebeck shot Ralph a stern look, and guilt bubbled up inside him; oh right, the boy… He probably shouldn’t have mentioned the dragon around him, he was likely to be inconsolable with terror and they’d have to coax him to leave the building.

To his surprise, however, Leaf merely gapped in astonishment and blurted out loudly, “A dragon?! A real dragon?! Really?! Cool!”

“Righto!” Ralph responded, drawing his odd blue blade and shooting a dazzling grin towards his comrades. “We haven’t time to talk, Leaf! We must be off! Destiny awaits!”

“Who’s Destiny? Is that the dragon’s name?”

“Not ‘Destiny’ like a person’s name, kid, destiny like fate or-“

“We must be off!”

Not waiting for the others, Ralph turned and bolted towards the doorway that led back out onto the spiral staircase. A muffled curse and hasty footsteps behind him let him know they were following, but he paid them little notice. Let Linebeck watch the boy- Ralph had only one thing on his mind. Fulfilling his divine calling.

The wind outside had only grown stronger, and as he burst out onto the balcony, he noticed that the sky had been overtaken by a solid wall of gray gloom. The pillowy clouds had all surged together to create a vast landscape of dark fog that swallowed the palace around them, almost like they had floated into the middle of a vast, dark thundercloud. Cold, fat raindrop started to fall around them, slapping against the ancient pitted stone, raising goosebumps on his arms whenever they struck his flesh. His cape and hair whipped violently in the wind, and he had to shout in order to be heard.

“Where is the beast? I cannot see it!”

Linebeck yelled something behind him, but if it was an answer to his question Ralph didn’t hear it.

A loud boom shook the building and for a wild moment, Ralph was afraid of an earthquake. It took him a moment to realize it was thunder. For once, fear lanced its way through his gut. A dragon he could fight, a dragon was something he could face head-on… Being zapped by lightning because he happened to be in the middle of a massive storm cloud was not.

Linebeck tugged on his sleeve, and Ralph turned to face the portly security guard; he had one arm up in front of his face trying to shield himself from the stinging raindrops, his lanky hair billowing out beside him, but his other hand was securing Leaf who was hunkered down with a grimace against the force of the wind. He’d stashed his rod in his belt loop.

“We need to get down!” Linebeck shouted, and Ralph gave a nod to show that he understood. Together the three turned and began racing down the ancient steps as quickly as they dared.

A sudden roar broke the air, and a second after Leaf’s foot left the balcony, a massive dark shape dove through the clouds and collided with the side of the building, tearing the balcony off as though the bricks were Legos. Ralph’s heart leaped into his throat; if they had moved even a moment later…

He tried to spot the shape flying out in the rain among the clouds, but it was too dark. The haze of the storm made it seem like dusk had already fallen, and before Ralph could figure out where the dragon had flown, Linebeck tugged on his jacket and forced him to keep moving.

The trio burst into the fourth floor at a dead sprint, water dripping from their hair and clothing, Linebeck practically dragging Leaf behind him. The boy’s eyes were wide with panic as they darted around him wildly, looking for an avenue of escape. Well, at least they’d found a way to stem his endless flow of questions.

A wall exploded inwards, pelting them with bits of mortar and brick shrapnel. Squinting his eyes against the dust and the rain, Ralph lifted his blade hesitantly and was met with his first real look at the dragon.

It was massive, easily larger than a school bus, with two heavy, taloned feet and two enormous wings with a span that was easily over forty feet long. The wings were red and leathery, like a bat, and were the only part of its body not covered in massive black scales. Actually, he couldn't tell if the black plating that encompassed its body was actually its scales or if the creature was wearing armor, but either way, it didn't matter- the monster’s carapace was nigh on impregnable.

Its head was like an upside-down triangle with sharp horns extending from either temple and its chin, and a long, snake-like tongue extended from its mouth, testing the air for its prey. Its eyes glowed a murderous red. Behind, its long, sinuous tail waved back-and-forth, and in the back of Ralph’s mind, he realized that the tip of the dragon’s tail was covered in a gold metal casing that almost looked like a lantern, but it held no flame.

Before he could comment on the peculiarity of that, however, Linebeck’s voice broke through Ralph’s stupor as the older man gave him an empowering shove and bellowed hoarsely, “Go! Go!”

The dragon roared in challenge as Ralph ran passed him, slightly ahead of his companions, and just when he thought for certain that the dragon was going to gobble him up, it turned its head and spewed forth a blast of flames that illuminated the dark room in a fiery glow.

Horrified, Ralph turned back, certain he'd find his friends being roasted alive and was relieved to see the two had narrowly missed the stream of flame. The fire had burnt the ground a sickly charcoal black; he could still feel waves of heat coming off of the stone. Across the room, he could see Linebeck and Leaf backing against the wall, the dragon looming over them, roaring in triumph.

Ralph wanted to help, but it was at that moment that reality seemed to crash down on top of him.

Kill a dragon? He thought he could kill a dragon?! Until this moment, he hadn’t been able to even comprehend what a dragon really was. The monstrous form in front of him was more terrible than he could have ever fathomed, even in his darkest nightmares. It didn’t matter that he had a legendary sword, the blade would not be able to pierce that armor, and if he even tried to get close, he’d be incinerated by that fiery breath.

Still… Ralph was the child of heroes. This is what heroes did; they stood up against impossible odds and faced their fates with a grin. It didn’t matter if it was impossible; he couldn’t leave Linebeck and Leaf to the mercy of this repulsive reptile.

But how…? How could he fight _that_?

Before him, he watched in anguish as the dragon reared back, spreading its wings, inhaling sharply through its nostrils as it prepared to emit another gout of flame, this time ready to put Linebeck and Leaf out of the picture permanently.

He could see Linebeck scrambling for something in his pocket, his free hand holding Leaf’s trembling form behind him protectively. There wasn’t any time to act. Sprinting forward, Ralph waved his sword in the air and cried out, hoping to distract the monster, but it was too late.

The dragon let out a stream of flame that scorched the walls, the heat searing Ralph’s face from across the room, and he threw up an arm protectively in front of his eyes as the light stabbed his eyes. His cry of despair was lost to the roar of the flame. Linebeck and Leaf… They were… they were…

“What are you just standing around for, Runt? Come on!”

With a yelp, Ralph felt someone grab hold of his makeshift cape and jerk him backward. Nearly tumbling to the ground, Ralph managed to right himself at the last second and looked up in shock to see Linebeck and Leaf standing right behind him.

Ralph gaped.

“What-?! How-?!”

“No time!” Linebeck shouted, stuffing what looked like an old hourglass back into his pocket and dragging Ralph forward towards the stairwell that led down to the next floor. “Run!”

Unfortunately for them, the dragon noticed the shouting and turned just in time to see them vanish down the stairwell. Its roar of rage shook the building again, even more dust falling from the ceiling.

“Come on, we gotta go!” Linebeck encouraged breathlessly, his face pale and sweaty. “I can’t pull that trick off again; that thing needs sunlight to recharge, but with this storm, I don’t think it’ll work!”

They hit the bottom of the staircase and bolted towards the next one that led down to the second floor. Above them, the ceiling sagged as the dragon slammed its weight against the floor, trying to capture its prey. Leaf let out a wail of panic that was nearly lost behind Linebeck’s endless mantra of “Come on come on come on come on come on!”

Right as they reached the next staircase, the ceiling caved in and the dragon’s head appeared, snarling in defiance.

“Move it!”

They vanished just as a wave of flame blanketed the air where they’d been standing. For a moment, Ralph thought his hair had caught fire.

A psychotic laugh tore itself from his throat as they hit the ground of the second floor and made their way towards the final staircase.

They were doing it… They were doing it! If they could get out of the building and across the field, they could hide in the palace. The storm would help shield them from the eyes of the dragon, and as soon as it was safe, they could find some way out of the palace and back into the museum. They were going to get out, he had to believe it!

Halfway across the second floor, the ceiling glowed an ominous red.

“Oh Din…!”

With a tremendous crash, the dragon slammed through the ceiling, bringing with it chunks of flaming bricks and a wave of tremendous heat. The trio skidded to a halt, horrified, and a panicked sob snuck its way out of Leaf’s throat.

As the dragon turned to face them, something unexpected happened; Linebeck thrust Leaf towards Ralph and drew the rod from his waistband.

“Runt, take the kid and get out of here!”

Ralph gaped. Take the kid and leave? Did this security guard really think that Ralph was going to turn tail and flee while he heroically sacrificed himself to buy them time?! Never! Ralph was no coward! Besides, slaying this beast was his task! An impossible task, by all means, but he was the imbecile who had asked for it, and he surely stood a better chance than Linebeck did!

He didn’t say that, however. What he said instead was, “Linebeck, don’t be absurd. You don’t even have an actual weapon! You can’t fight that thing with a stick!”

“I know,” he grunted weakly, and to Ralph's surprise, he realized Linebeck was beside himself with terror. "Look, kid, I can't protect Leaf. All I have is a useless hourglass and a dumb rod, but I don’t think that’ll help much with all this fire. Besides, there are other monsters around, remember? Keep the kid safe and get him out of here, alright? He’s one of those kids from the orphanage; I recognize him from yesterday. He kept jumping all over the displays and nearly got himself kicked out. Just… Just get him out of here and finish your dumb quest, ok? I’ll try to buy you time.”

The knowledge that Linebeck, Ordon's old hapless janitor, was stealing his limelight and performing the heroic sacrifice that should have been Ralph's should have infuriated him, but instead, he just felt sick.

“Linebeck, don’t-“

“I said go!” the older man shouted, giving Ralph a shove and turning back to face the dragon. The behemoth reared back and let out a roar of challenge, to which Linebeck responded by whipping his rod through the air like a baseball bat. A hunk of ice the size of a bowling ball collided with the dragon’s head with a satisfying clang. The dragon stumbled as if drunk.

“I got this kid, now go!”

Feeling like he had acid reflux, Ralph tightened his grip on Leaf’s hand and ran.

“W-what about Linebeck?” Leaf called frantically as the two sprinted down the stairwell into the dark first floor. The sound of Linebeck shouting and the dragon’s roars could be heard clearly overhead. The ceiling trembled and glowed.

“He’ll be fine,” Ralph lied. “Now come on! Faster!”

Outside, the storm had only grown more fierce. It was now dark as night, the rain pelting their skin like cold, wet needles as they sprinted against the wind across the grassy courtyard. Between the dark thunderclouds blocking out light and covering the landscape like a fog and the rush of the wind and rain in his eyes, Ralph could barely see a thing. If it weren’t for Leaf’s hand in his own, Ralph doubted he would’ve been able to keep track of the boy.

An explosion sounded behind them and Ralph willed himself not to look, knowing that he wouldn’t like what he saw.

There was a sharp tug, and Leaf’s hand was gone.

“No!” Ralph shouted, whirling around, bringing his blade up to bear, but it was so dark, it was difficult to see. Blinking against the rain, Ralph looked down and saw the boy lying at his feet in the grass.

“S-sorry!” He cried, his high voice nearly impossible to hear over the wind. “I tripped on something-!”

A roar rent the air. Behind Leaf, Ralph could see a hole in the second floor of the tower. A column of flame tore through the clouds, glowing almost mesmerizingly in the rain, illuminating Ralph’s surroundings for a brief moment. He thought he saw what looked like the body of a man crushed under the dragon’s talon before the world went black.

“Linebeck…” Ralph breathed despairingly, feeling as though the world had been rent in two.

With the tell-tale ‘whump!' of batted wings and an alarming crash, Ralph felt rather than saw the dragon leap from the tower and onto the field.

“Leaf, get up!”

The boy struggled to rise but his body was trembling, and subtle vibrations in the ground let them know the dragon was approaching.

“Leaf, come on!”

“He… He’s gonna eat us! I don’t wanna-!”

“He’s not going to get us! I’ll keep you safe, come on!”

“You promise?”

Somehow, over the rain, Ralph could hear a weight in the boy’s words. He was struck with the sudden realization that if he failed to get Leaf out of this in one piece, then Linebeck had fallen for no reason.

The older male had been right; he should have never asked for this quest.

“I promise.”

The boy pulled himself to his feet.

Behind them, the darkness morphed into the shape of a massive, sinister dragon’s head.

It snarled.

“Run!”

Ralph shoved Leaf behind him and swung his blade in desperation. To his shock, the swing connected but bounced harmlessly off the creature’s snout with little more than the clang of metal striking metal. Its scales were just as tough as he thought. Unless he could find some way to hurt it, a weak section maybe or a part that wasn’t as heavily protected… but in the storm, he couldn’t make out the monster’s entire body, and it’s not like he could ask it to stand still while he carefully looked him over.

The dragon snorted contemptuously, and Ralph suddenly felt very, very small.

“W-what do we do?” a voice asked from behind.

Ralph’s heart leaped into his throat.

“Leaf?! I told you to run! Run, now! Go-!”

The dragon’s head swung low and struck Ralph like a tree branch wrapped in metal. Ralph flew through the air, landing on the wet grass in a pained heap, the world spinning in nauseating circles.

After he reclaimed his bearings, he stumbled to his feet, disoriented. Where was Leaf? Where was the dragon? It was dark, too dark to see… Goddesses, somebody, anybody, help him!

Out of the dark, as though in answer to his prayer, Leaf emerged at a dead sprint, his warm brown eyes wide with terror, wet hair plastered to his skull. He zeroed in on Ralph and changed course, running towards his teenage protector, hand outstretched, desperately reaching.

“Ralph! Help!”

The dragon emerged out of the wind and rain behind the boy, materializing through the fog like the angel of death. In the span of a heartbeat, Ralph threw his hand out to grab the boy, felt his fingertips brush against Leaf’s, their eyes locked, and then in a hurricane of wind, the dragon snatched Leaf off of the ground and vanished into the air.

Despair washed over Ralph like the cold rain, but something else was building up inside of him. It was thick and hot, situated somewhere in his navel, and as he blinked stupidly at the spot where Leaf had been snatched away he felt it surge through him like a burst of adrenaline. His nerves tingled, the hair on his arms stood on end, and with a rush of what can only be described as ‘power’, Ralph sword erupted into flames.

His first reaction was to drop it, which he promptly did with a strangled yelp. It hit the wet grass with a splash of mud and immediately the flames vanished and Ralph was once more swallowed in darkness.

Overhead he heard the dragon screech in victory and he knew that any moment now it would be back to finish him off. Gingerly, he fumbled around in the darkness till he found the hilt of his blade and hefted it back into the air.

Immediately the flames rekindled. They swallowed the entirety of the blade in dancing orange flames, turning the blue of the metal an almost ghostly purple. Warmth seemed to spread outward from the weapon, cutting the chill of the rain dramatically, yet it didn’t burn the hand that held the hilt. The flames illuminated the area, casting dancing shadows across the grass and sending up twirling mists of steam as the heavy rain evaporated all around it. The weapon looked ethereal, glowing in the storm and the dark.

The dragon roared overhead, and a funnel of fire exploded across the sky as though answering the challenge of Ralph’s weapon. He could see the dragon swooping in low now, leaving Ralph with no time to think about where the flames had come from, if they were part of the sword all along or if something else had happened entirely; all he knew in that moment was that this monster had taken Linebeck and Leaf, and he wasn’t going to let his companions’ murderer get out of this alive.

All pretense of heroism or nobility were gone; he was terrified, and he was grief-stricken, but more than anything, he was angry. Angry at the dragon. Angry at himself.

With a rush of wind, the dragon swooped low over the ground, its talons extended and digging furrows through the grass as if it hoped to catch him and make him into ground beef.

At the last second, as the dragon made to pass over him, Ralph twisted and struck the monster in the thigh with his flaming weapon. He expected it to bounce off his scales harmlessly again and only really hoped to get lucky but was surprised when his flaming weapon cut through the monster’s armor like it was butter, leaving a nasty gash on its leg.

He had no time to think on how or why. The dragon roared in pain and rage, flapping its wings to gain altitude. In that moment, Ralph knew that if it came around again, it would simply barbecue him and be done with it. He needed to find some way to make sure it couldn't fly anymore...

Fumbling, his fingers almost numb from the cold and the rain, Ralph dug the grappling hook out of his pocket with his free hand. If he could latch onto something high up and leap onto the dragon’s back… but this thing would only hook into wood or the like; stone was too hard, the hook wouldn’t find purchase. There had to be something else, some other thing it could sink into…

Overhead, the dragon flapped into position, arching its neck back, inhaling. A crazy idea popped into Ralph’s head, and he turned and fired the hook straight at the dragon.

The spikey metal projectile embedded itself into the exposed, scaley flesh of the dragon’s wing, and what would have been a burst of flame dissolved into a cry of pain as Ralph was yanked off the ground and into the air, his sword held aloft, flames streaming behind him like a banner.

He jerked to a halt hanging in midair under the dragon’s wing and didn’t give the creature a chance to shake him free. With a wordless cry of rage, he swung his sword into the groove where the wing met the monster’s shoulder, tearing halfway through the appendage in a single, wild strike. A moment later, he was in freefall.

He hit the grass on his back and felt the air leave his lungs in a rush as the tremendous form of the dragon slammed into the ground beside him, nearly crushing him beneath its weight. The monster’s injured wing stretched over him like a tent. Gasping, unable to breathe, he forced himself to his feet and turned, driving his magical weapon into the creature’s side before it had a chance to recover.

It was hardly the noble strike that a valiant hero would have performed, but Ralph was desperate. The monster shuddered violently, screeching in agony, a vicious body spasm hurling Ralph several feet backward. Thankfully, his sword came with him.

He lay on the grass, feeling the rain and wind beat at his injured body as he slowly waited for the ability to breathe to return. Finally, he managed to push himself to a sitting position and gazed over at the body of the fallen dragon.

It lay still on the ground, its body trembling in its death-throes. Ralph’s sneaky stab while trapped beneath its wing seemed to have done the trick. He had hoped he’d get lucky and knick its lungs or its heart, and it seemed like he might have accomplished it. Regardless, it was in no position to continue fighting. The battle was Ralph’s.

In Ralph’s daydreams, this was the moment where he fell to his knees, kissed the flat of his blade, and declared his triumph dedicated to the Goddesses. Now that he was actually here, he just felt like lying back down. His body hurt from being tossed around and his throat was sore from screaming. How did the Hero of Time do this for a living? That man could not be human…

The rain on the dragon's scales glittered like stars in the light of the fire from Ralph's sword as he struggled to his feet and plodded closer. His shoulders were tense as he approached as though waiting for the dragon to suddenly show that it had been playing possum, but as he drew near he saw the dull glow of the creature's eyes and knew that its impending death was genuine.

Oddly, Ralph almost felt pity for the creature. There was a fearsome sort of nobility about it, a veritable living legend, and if it weren’t for Linebeck and Leaf, he almost wished it would live so he could let it go.

“But I can’t,” he whispered hoarsely, aware both that the dragon probably couldn’t understand him and that his voice wouldn’t carry over the wind anyway. “You killed them. I… I failed. I’m no hero after all… But you, you failed too. We don’t both need to suffer.”

And, raising his blade in both hands, he took one long, last look at his terrible foe, and smote off its head with a single strike.

At once, the monster’s body exploded in a puff of black smoke and Ralph was left coughing in the sulfurous dust. It took him a moment to notice that the wind and rain had stopped. Blinking in surprise, Ralph turned slowly on the spot and felt his jaw drop.

He was back in the museum.

It was the display about the city in the sky; he vaguely remembered this room, although he didn’t think he and Colin had spent much time in here the other day. Strange how long ago that seemed now…

His clothes were still wet and uncomfortable, but he barely noticed. Glancing down at his flaming sword, he felt a pang of sorrow wash over him. If only the flames had appeared before Linebeck had sent him away… Before Leaf had been snatched up… Maybe then, things might have been different. He might have saved them. Like his parents had saved him. He wasn’t much like them after all.

Something slammed into his back with all the force of an excitable dog.

“Ralph! That was awesome!”

Gaping in shock, Ralph unwrapped the bony arms from around his waist and spun around to face his assailant. His jaw dropped as his eyes landed upon the sodden, trembling, grinning face of Leaf. He was alive… The boy was alive…!

“I-I… How…?” Ralph spluttered weakly, sinking to his knees and dropping his sword to the ground with a clatter where it promptly extinguished.

“I’m alive!” Leaf shouted, his voice several decibels higher than was strictly necessary, but Ralph hardly noticed. He felt numb. “You’ll never believe it! I was running, and then the dragon came up from behind like ‘Raaaaaah!’ and snatched me up off the ground, then he flew up in the air and I was all, ‘Aaahhhh!’, and then it threw me up in the air and caught me in its mouth and _swallowed me_!”

Ralph blanched.

“It… It swallowed you?! But how-?!”

“I know! It was so cool!”

The boy was practically bouncing up and down with excitement; apparently being eaten by a dragon was the greatest thing that had ever happened to him.

“It was weird! It was all dark and slimy and I couldn’t barely breathe and I thought I was gonna choke to death or something and then- BAM! It exploded everywhere and when I opened my eyes, here I was! It was you, right? You killed it with your flaming sword?! Wow! Ralph, you’re the awesomest person ever! You’re a real hero! I wanna be just like you when I grow up! You think I can get a cool sword like yours?! Can you teach me how to fight? I wanna fight monsters and go on adventures and save princesses and…”

Leaf’s words washed over Ralph in a nearly indecipherable buzz. Leaf had been swallowed whole… and Ralph had somehow managed to kill the dragon before he’d suffocated inside its stomach and been digested. How…?

But then, how had any of this happened? How did dragons exist in the first place, how could castles fly? If he didn’t stop to question all the terrible things that had happened, why was he now questioning the good? He’d saved Leaf… He fulfilled his promise…

Something Leaf had said stuck out in his mind: ‘ _You’re a real hero…_ ’ That was weird. He didn’t feel heroic. He felt confused and tired. He’d barely made it out of that alive, and it was completely inglorious. And yet…

Something warm was flowing through his chest as the boy continued his excitable babbling. Maybe Ralph didn’t fit his own standards for heroics. Maybe the world would never sing his praises, because the world would never know that he’d somehow, impossibly, managed to slay a dragon. But Ralph knew, and Leaf knew. And to Leaf, Ralph was a hero.

Maybe that was what he’d been looking for all along. Someone to think he was a hero.

No… No, he’d been looking for someone to be a hero to. As his parents had been heroes to him.

A groan emitted from around the corner and Leaf fell quiet, a look of panic glowing in his eyes.

Ralph felt a surge of protectiveness for the small boy flood through him and he forced himself back onto his aching feet, lifting his sword and watching as it burst into flames once again.

Leaf grinned in poorly contained excitement at the sight, but Ralph motioned for him to be still. Taking a deep breath, Ralph turned and rounded a display case showing a model palace in the clouds… and froze.

There, lying supinely on the floor, was Linebeck the security guard.

“Goddesses, that’s bright…” he winced, holding a hand over his eyes. The Ice Rod lay on the floor beside him. “Why does my everything hurt? I feel like a house was dropped on me.”

Tears of relief stung at Ralph’s eyes, but the only thing that came out was a bark of startled laughter.

“Uh, well, that’s not quite right, actually. You tried to tango with a dragon and got stepped on, I’m afraid. We thought you were dead.”

“A dragon?” he muttered, rubbing his eyes. “Oh yeah… That sucked. You got the kid out? ‘Course you did,” he added when Ralph answered his question with a nod. “Knew you could do it. You and that sword… wait, is your sword on fire?!”

“Yeah,” Ralph replied, for once not feeling arrogant. “Don’t really know how, however. I was facing down the dragon when suddenly it burst into flames. Must be a magical blade or something-“

“It’s ‘cause you’re a hero!” Leaf chirped, bouncing around the display case to join the two older males, an infectious grin on his mischievous face. “You’re a hero and you promised to help me! That’s why!”

“Um… sure,” Ralph responded, exchanged baffled looks with Linebeck. “Well… The dragon’s dead and we’re back. I suppose that means we passed the test, eh?”

“I guess,” Linebeck groaned. “Does that mean we can take a break now?”

Ralph laughed, leaning against the display case and watching Leaf as he bounced around the room, looking at everything and talking a million miles an hour. Linebeck lay on the floor, eyes closed and obviously exhausted, yet with a contented, somewhat triumphant smirk on his face. An odd pair of heroes, the two of them made. Unlikely. But then, weren’t all the best heroes the last people you’d expect?


	26. Believe in Me

Up ahead of them, their passageway through the maze of rock formations finally ended, opening up into a wide relatively flat expanse of dry land.

Off in the distance, Aryll could see trees and grass growing; apparently, they had come upon the edge of a forest. To the right, great mountains rose against the skyline, and to her left, she could see what appeared to be an enormous crater the size of a large building. Her curiosity piqued, Aryll moved to go examine it before noticing the four Colins and Neri arrayed before her in a line, backs to her, unmoving.

She hesitated, unsure what to say to him or how to say it, not exactly anxious to have another conversation with him until she managed to get her thoughts together, but then she noticed the figure standing before them in the middle of the clearing.

It was the goat skeleton swordsman, regarding them as calm as you please, the gentle wind ruffling his heavy black cloak and massive rune-encrusted blade at his side. Her body lay prone on the ground behind it, lifeless.

Oh sure, he would just appear now out of nowhere, right when she was in the midst of severe emotional turmoil. Nothing today was going right for her.

“Aryll,” one of the Colins spoke, and she jumped, not expecting him to address her so normally after the fight they’d just had.

“What?”

“It’s your body, so it’s your call. How do you want to go about this?”

She hadn’t taken her eyes off the skeleton so she couldn’t be sure which one had spoken. Regardless, she was pretty sure how this would have to go down. A dramatic battle, the four Colins duking it out with a literal demon to save her while she stood on the sidelines and did nothing. The thought aggravated, but not for the same reasons it had before.

Before any of them could speak again, however, the strangest thing happened. The monster gave them a steely glare, let out a piercing cry of challenge that was so loud, It would have rattled her bones had she had any…

And then he flew away.

He flew away, zooming off into the large crater beside them, and left her body lying there on the ground.

The six of them could only stand there and gape.

It left…? It left?! That was it?! After everything it had put them through, this mad chase through the canyon, stealing her body, putting her in a situation where she actually had to confront Colin and realize that maybe she’d actually been the terrible person all along… and that was it?!

She ought to have been relieved that that was all, that the masked kid has apparently decided to take it easy on them, but all she could feel at the moment was blind fury. How dare he! If she could have picked between a fight to the death and confronting Colin, she would have picked the fight! This was so unfair!

“Uh,” one of the Colins said, sounding more than a little awkward, “Aryll? You, uh… Are you going to get your body?”

Oh.

It was lying on the rocky floor about a dozen yards or so ahead of her, and Aryll hastened towards it, gliding swiftly through the air and leaving the others behind.

Her body looked fine, once she got close enough to inspect it. It was more than just a little weird, standing over herself like she was, but her body was still breathing and that was what she decided to focus on. She didn’t have any serious cuts or abrasions, though her clothes were filthy and her hair was in complete disarray. She needed a bath something fierce and she was sure she smelled like sweat and dirt and death. Her favorite skull-pattern t-shirt had a tear in the hem, and her knee-length cut-offs were splattered in dark stains that she hoped were just mud.

“Are you ok?”

The Colins and Neri apparently had arrived while she’d been examining herself and she hadn’t noticed. Din, she would smack him if she wasn’t so unsure how to act around him right now… and, y’know, if she could touch anything.

“Uh… Yeah, I’m fine. I- oh, you mean my body? Um, well, I think it’s ok… I mean I’m still breathing, so…”

Sweet Farore, this was awkward.

“So…” Purple asked, leaning forward with a frown. The knowledge that all four sets of Colins’ eyes were on her defenseless body made her feel uncomfortable. “How do you get back in?”

“I have no idea,” she admitted lamely, giving herself a shrewd once-over. She was a ghost, right? Maybe she just needed to… float inside of herself? Wasn’t that how it worked in cartoons?

“Well, wish me luck,” she said anxiously, then floated down and positioned herself supinely about a foot in the air over her body. Checking to see if she was matching her pose, she closed her eyes, prayed to the Goddesses that this would work, and slowly lowered herself down.

There was a burst of sudden sensation and she drew in a deep breath through her nostrils. She felt warm. As simple as that, she was back.

A grin exploded across her face as she blinked her eyes open and looked up at the expectant faces of four Colins and one very disheveled Neri. Goddesses, she was back…! She was back! It had worked!

Letting out a cry of joy that startled everyone in the vicinity, Aryll shoved herself to a sitting position and pulled Neri into a crushing embrace, laughing uncontrollably. The little girl grunted painfully against Aryll’s chest but had a silly sort of smile on her face when she pulled away, her glasses askew and her cheeks flaring red.

Leaping to her feet, Aryll rounded on Blue and yanked her Skull Hammer out of his surprised hands, cradling the weapon against her cheek and cooing softly, “Oh baby, I’m back, I’m here. I’m never going to leave you again, not ever…”

“Yeah, she’s fine,” Red muttered flatly, earning a snigger from Green and Purple, and though Aryll turned and flashed him a threatening glare, there was no heat in the action. Something uncomfortable crawled up in her stomach, and she blanched internally upon realizing that the return of her body meant that her emotions now carried physical responses. Being near Colin was highly uncomfortable right now. They needed to get a move on, fast, so she could find the others and get away from him. At least long enough until she could work out… whatever she needed to work out.

Still, there was no need to be mean. Swallowing back her pride, she looked Red straight in the eye and forced out a strangled, “Thanks, Colin… for… helping me get my body back.”

Shock reflected across all four of his faces, followed by an uneasy smile and a curt, “Sure, Aryll. No problem.”

_Gods, this was so weird!_

“Well, now what?” Green chimed in, clapping his hands together brusquely, his sword pommel stuck through his belt, the skin of his one bare arm rather scratched from a previous fight. How had she not noticed that before? Or had she just not cared?

“We get out, of course,” Aryll replied, trying her best not to sound too scathing. To be fair, it _was_ the obvious response, but for whatever reason, the thought of being impolite to him at the moment made her cringe.

“How?” Purple asked, looking around uneasily, the periwinkle boots he’d been lugging around all day still tucked under his arm. “I mean, we finished the task, right? We saved Neri, got your body back… isn’t this the part where that masked boy poofs us back out?”

Aryll frowned. He certainly had a point; if they were done they should be gone already… why were they still here?

Opening her mouth without really knowing what she was going to say, she cut off abruptly as all six heads turned towards the crater, a familiar sound renting the air, echoing from somewhere deep inside

Dread flooding through her, Aryll raced to the side of the crater, the four Colins and Neri following along behind.

It was, as she had assumed when passing by earlier, really quite large; roughly the size of a three-story building, the massive hole in the ground featured a long, spiraling path that ran along the circular perimeter and led from the surface down to the bottom of the pit.

And there, at the bottom, was the skeletal goat man from earlier, floating in the air over what was unmistakably a colossal goat skull.

The monster was screaming, its massive sword held point-down in both hands. For a wild moment, she almost thought it was going to stab itself.

What actually happened was about a thousand times worse. When its cries reached a crescendo, the demon stabbed the massive blade down through the top of the giant skull. Instantly, the fiery runes along the blade’s side ignited, their ethereal glow casting shadows along the walls of the crater, illuminating the world in an unworldly light, and the floor began quaking once more.

In a fountain of dirt, it exploded from beneath the ground; the body of the giant skull. Thankfully, it was only its upper torso and arms, but even that was more than enough, rising forty feet into the air, its hollow eye sockets glowing with the same murderous red light that illuminated the sword. Its arms were long enough to reach either side of the chasm without fully extending, and its hands were as large as rowboats, capable of smashing her into the ground with a single swing. 

The swordsman seemed to flicker and fade, absorbed into the blade that pierced the skull of its massive replacement, and with a cry that shook the very earth they stood on, the giant skeleton threw its head back and roared. Near its base, beneath the cage of its ribs, tiny puffs of black smoke began to appear.

Monsters. And they were racing towards the path that led up out of the crater.

 “Oh great…” Blue groaned, drawing his blade and readying himself as forms suddenly began appearing from beneath the edge of the crater. One by one, dozens of monsters were marching towards them, hoards of goblins and lizardmen, skeletons and feral wolves, and at the back what looked like a large man in chain mail, a heavy sword and shield in his hands.

“Goddesses, there are so many…” Purple grunted, dropping the boots on the ground and easing his blade in his hands. He exchanged brief looks with Red and Green before nodding to Blue and ducking back with Neri in tow, heading off towards the rock formations where they might find a place to hide her. As they went, the little girl cast a fearful look over her shoulder towards Aryll, Red and Green. Aryll tried her best to look confident and in control, but honestly, she was worried. The giant continued its monstrous roaring, and every time it did, more monsters appeared below. How many were there now? And how many would they have to kill before they passed the masked boy’s test?

“We’re too open.” Red barked gruffly, once again taking charge of the situation. “We need to get over to the rocks again, try to use them as cover-“

“But that will bring them closer to Neri!”

“They’re going to go for her regardless, there’s too many for us to hold off. We just need to trust that Blue and Purple can keep her safe while we take out as many as we can.”

“It won’t matter if the big guy can just spawn reinforcements whenever he wants,” Green countered. His hands tightened on his sword. “If… if we could get down there and kill it, then…”

“Colin, no,” Aryll said sternly, meeting his harsh gaze with a fierce glare of her own. “That’s suicide-“

“If we can’t stop the reinforcements, it won’t matter!” Colin bit out tersely. “We’d be overrun even if we had fifty people fighting here. We need to take out the leader-“

“Ugh! You and your stupid need to play the hero! You can’t seriously think I’m going to let you run off alone and get yourself killed!”

“Who said anything about me?” Colin rebutted, looking flabbergasted. Aryll opened her mouth to fire off a scathing retort but paused, confused.

“I have to protect Neri. I promised her I’d be there for her, I’m not going to start breaking my promises now. Besides… the boots don’t really fit me.”

He stooped down to pluck the discarded boots from off the floor and offered them to Aryll, an expectant look on his face.

“I hate to do this, but it’s all on you. You’re faster than me already, and with these, you’ll be even faster. I’ll try to hold out for as long as I can. Please… You have to save her…”

Aryll felt like the floor had fallen out from underneath her. He… He wanted her to… to be the one to save them? To rush headfirst into the belly of the beast and single-handedly put an end to an army of monsters? It was insane. It was suicidal. It was… well, it was heroic. This was his chance, and he was giving it to her.

No, he wasn’t giving; he was acknowledging that it was hers and wasn’t putting up a fight about it.

Something weird resonated inside of her, and she felt something about the dynamic of her and Colin’s relationship shift once again, although how, she couldn’t say. Goddesses, this was the stupidest thing she’d ever considered doing. She was so going to get killed, and he would be too, and Neri alongside them.

Dropping to the ground, she began pulling off her track shoes, sparing only a moment to shoot Colin an unreadable look.

“Don’t die,” she muttered thickly, yanking the boots out of his hands and tugging them hastily onto her feet.

A smirk appeared on Colin’s face, looking weirdly right amidst the sweat and dust and blood. “Wow… I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me all year.”

She snorted, tightening the straps around her calves and avoiding eye contact with her estranged ex-boyfriend. The leather was old yet supple and surprisingly soft. For the most part, they were no different than regular old-fashioned cowboy boots, only the soles were flat and gripped the ground better than any cleat she'd ever worn, and the tops of the boots were stylized like the wings of a bird. Also, they were blue. She decided she liked that part, though. Off-color shoes were her favorites.

The first wave of monsters was already most of the way up the slope. They had seconds before the fighting began, but when Aryll's gaze met Greens’s, she felt her words stick in her throat. She still didn’t know what she wanted to say, what she needed to say to put things right, and now they might not have another chance…

Feeling like a coward, she gave him a curt nod and turned away, taking an uneasy breath and swallowing thickly. Her throat felt dry and scratchy. Without another word, she ran.

* * *

Between one heartbeat and the next, Aryll was gone, leaving nothing but a trail of dust in her wake.

In spite of the situation, Colin felt himself blinking in surprise. Sweet Farore, those boots were fast… Hopefully, and if the Goddesses were on their side, she’d make it down to the bottom of the crater before too long and put an end to the endless march of enemies. If they were lucky, they’d all make it out of here alive. If they were unlucky…

Turning to his red self, he gave his doppelganger a nod, and together, they turned and jogged back to where Blue and Purple had taken Neri.

Truth be told, what he’d wanted to do was give Neri to Aryll and have her use those magic boots to carry them both away from here. The problem with that was that he had a feeling that putting an end to this was the only way they were getting out of here and back into reality. This right here, this was the real test, and while he had a feeling that the real danger lay before Aryll, he couldn’t bring himself to offer to take her place. Neri needed him, and he wasn’t about to leave her.

They made it back to the others before too long and found a tiny groove in the rocks just large enough to Neri to squeeze inside. Within minutes, monsters finally began appearing amid the rock formations, maybe around twenty or so. Before, he would have been terrified to find himself in this predicament, but something about having Neri there had calmed him. He had a reason to fight, a reason to be brave. Even better, his fight with Aryll earlier - the memory of which was bizarre, because he seemed to remember it happening from four separate vantage points - had also cleared away a lot of the fog that he’d been living under for so long.

Maybe Colin wasn’t a hero to Aryll, but he was being given a chance here to be a hero for Neri, and even more importantly, he could still be a hero to himself. Singular mistakes would only define him if he let them, but what was important was that he decided who he was before he let anyone or anything else do it for him. That was the epiphany he had had when he’d been split into four, when all four facets of himself had tried to decide who they were separately, when they had each found themselves woefully flawed alone and yet had still somehow won the affection of a lonely little girl. Right now, at this moment, he was a hero, because that's what Neri needed. That's what he needed. Everything was going to be ok…

The monsters formed a ring around him, but to his surprise, none of them ran forward. That was a good thing because if they had they'd have taken Neri and he'd be overrun in an instant, and yet he couldn't understand why they didn't take their opportunity. It was making him uneasy.

The answer came a moment later when a man in chainmail pushed through the ring of monsters and squared off with Colin.

He was large, perhaps a foot or so taller than him, though lithe rather than bulky. He carried a sword on his hip, long and thin, and he had on a heavy black breastplate, massive shoulder pads, heavy greaves, and one of those big clunky helmets with the thick visors and the feathers sticking up in the back like he was some sort of jouster, except that instead of feathers it was just a piece of black metal smelted in the same shape.

“Who are you?” Colin asked sternly, readying his blade and trying to exude and air of confidence and control.

The figure let out a slow, dark laugh.

“I am a Darknut; one of the most loyal servants to the King of Thieves. Who are you, boy, that you should speak with me?”

“I’m Colin Smith,” Colin replied, hiding his surprise at the Darknut’s answer; one of the servants of the King of Thieves?! Light! “I don’t have any cool titles to show off. I’m just the guy who’s going to kill you.”

Din, he hoped that sounded tough. It sounded cooler in his head. Out loud, it kind of sounded childish and lame.

The Darknut laughed again, and the monsters joined in with him.

“Kill me? You? Well then, after a boast like that, how can I not let you try? The sooner I put an end to this, the sooner the girl will be back in our clutches. I suppose I ought to milk a little bit of fun out of this while I can.”

He moved as if to stride forward, but Colin blurted out a quick, “Wait!”

“Why do you want Neri so badly? Why do you keep sending monsters to kill her? Didn’t you already have her in the first place? None of this makes sense!”

The Darknut sneered. “So you protect the creature, yet you do not even know what she is? Foolish boy… but it matters not. You have served your purpose already, and I’ve come to take her back. Let us end this.”

The Darknut rolled his neck and several loud cracks pierced the air.

“Well then, Colin Smith. Shall we begin?”

He didn’t wait for Colin’s assent. Without further warning, the man raised his arm and the horde of monsters surged forwards, shrieking and hissing with bestial delight.

Praying that Aryll hurry, the four Colins met the monsters in a clash of blades.

* * *

Aryll had known from Green’s stupid stunt that the boots helped you run fast. She just wasn’t in any way prepared for exactly how fast she would be running.

It felt like she'd been strapped to the front of a bullet train. The wind whipped at her hair, stung her eyes, making it difficult to see, and even though she nearly ran face-first into the side of the canyon several times as she tried to get a hang of her new speed, she couldn’t hide the burst of adrenaline and sheer exhilaration that came bubbling up inside of her once she managed to get the hang of it.

Goddesses, these boots were incredible! She felt like a superhero, like the Flash! Nothing was going to get in her way now!

The crater was easily larger than most buildings, extending several hundred feet down and many more across in almost a perfect circle. The whole thing was shaped like a giant spiral, with a path carved along the outside perimeter gradually twirling inward until it reached the bottom. She supposed she ought to be grateful that there was even a path at all.

There were monsters all along the path in groups of ten to twenty, marching in tiny parcels all the way from the bottom to the top, heading presumably towards Colin and Neri. She blew past them all like a blonde blur. A large part of her wanted to stop and take out as many as she could, but she knew it was smarter to not waste her energy.

The monsters she passed made stabs at trying to stop her, but they were mostly skeletons and red, lumpy looking goblin things. Not very fast, even by normal standards. That bolstered her spirits somewhat; Colin should be able to hold these guys off at least for a while until they overwhelmed him through sheer numbers. She needed to hurry.

She was panting pretty heavily when she reached the bottom of the crater. The shoes made her fast, but they didn’t give her infinite stamina to boot. She didn’t have time to rest, though. Her appearance before it seemed to have momentarily stemmed the tide of reinforcements, and while she was grateful for that, she still didn’t know how she was going to deal with this massive monster all on her own.

It was only upper torso, arms, and a head, but even that was enough to tower over Aryll, rising a fifty feet into the air, its hollow eye sockets glowing with the same murderous red light that illuminated the sword. Its arms were long enough to reach either side of the chasm without fully extending, and its hands were as large as rowboats, capable of smashing her into the ground with a single swing. 

The undead behemoth stared down at her for a moment in silent consternation, as if trying to decide if this human gnat was worth bothering with, before leaning over and letting out an eardrum-bursting roar of defiance. Her entire body vibrated with the force of its cry. For a moment she thought her legs had turned to jello.

Well, if that’s how you want to play it…

It swung its massive, boney fist, and Aryll moved.

* * *

The fight was going poorly.

The four formed a semi-circle around the fissure in the rockface that Neri was secluded within, but though most of the monsters the Darknut was throwing at them were slow and stupid, there still had the heavy advantage of numbers. And the more Colin swung his sword, the more exhausted he became.

Watching from the sidelines, the Darknut was clearly enjoying their struggles. Though he hadn’t spoken since unleashing his minions, Colin could almost imagine the sound of his dark, mirthless laughter echoing out from the confines of his helmet.

_Come on, Aryll_ , he pleaded internally. He felt bad, putting most of the responsibility on her, but he was at a loss unless she managed to pull out a win. Any second now, something could go wrong, and Neri would be –

And then it happened.

Purple lashed out at a monster, had his blow blocked by a thick, rusted shield, and before he could recover, he was taken from behind by a green-skinned goblin with a snarling face and yellow eyes.

Neri cried out from her hole, the monsters cheered, and before Green or the others could react, Purple sank to his knees, staring at the blade sticking out from his chest.

In a sparkle of lights, he vanished. The blade hit the floor with a hollow clank.

Green felt something rush into him at the moment of Purple’s demise, and in a confusing burst, images of Purple’s demise flickered through is mind from both of their perspectives, disorienting.

Green stumbled back, shaking his head, trying to focus, as the monsters rallied, emboldened by their success. Red and Blue tried to rally, but with Purple and Green out of the picture, they were overrun. In twin flashes, they were gone, the monsters were cheering, the Darknut laughing, Neri screaming from within her hidey-hole.

And Colin realized his shirt was white again.

Rather than surge forward like he expected them to, the monsters suddenly pulled back, letting the Darknut step forward, forming a half-circle around the two as though providing them with an arena.

“Well done, Colin Smith,” the Darknut leered sarcastically. “You put on a wonderful show, but I’m afraid I am getting bored. Let’s put an end to this, shall we?”

The man surged forward, moving much faster than someone wearing that much armor ought to, and Colin found himself leaping drastically out of the way to avoid being cleaved in half by his massive sword.

Neri let out a shriek of terror at Colin’s expense, but he didn’t pay her any mind; the Darknut was after him at the moment, not her. He just needed to find some way to turn the tables on him…

The Darknut slashed again and Colin rolled under the strike, coming up to take the man from the side only to be kicked in the gut for his trouble and be sent flying backward. Winded, he scrambled to his feet just in time to avoid a second swing and dance backward a few steps to try and give himself some room to move. 

“Come on!” the Darknut roared tauntingly, giving a few more practice swings with his sword for show, making the monsters shout and jeer, “What happened to your boast? Were you not going to kill me? All I see is a little boy who won’t stop running away!”

Snarling, Colin surged forward, swinging his blade diagonally at the man in black only to have him catch his blade on his own. With hardly any effort, the larger man began forcing Colin back.

He was trapped. It was taking all his strength to keep the Darknut’s blade away from his body, but the older man barely seemed to be straining himself as he bore Colin down, forcing him to give ground. He could almost see a sinister light through the slit in the man’s helmet. He was toying with him. Colin needed to act, fast.

“Well now, so this is how it ends,” the Darknut purred maliciously, forcing Colin even further back, his tennis shoes sliding on the gravel. “So much for protecting the little girl, eh? But I should thank you for the laugh. It’s been ages.”

“What do you want with her?” Colin grunted, his arms screaming in agony as he poured every ounce of his strength into forcing the weapon back.

“Me? Nothing in particular. Yet our master seems to have some designs set around her and her little friends… but then, you know nothing about that, do you? All you see is a little girl.”

“That’s all I need to see,” Colin gasped, not really sure what that meant but still feeling like he needed to say something. Something inside of him roared, some forgotten piece of his self sliding finally into place, and the sword in his hand grew warm.

“Mmm,” the Darknut mused, ignoring him. “Well, I’ve had my fun. This is goodbye, Colin Smith. Too bad you sent your little friend away; two of you together might have almost proved a challenge. You’re less than nothing on your own.”

Overhead, the perpetual blanket of dull grey clouds finally broke, and a singular pillar of light descended from the heavens, exactly over where he and the Darknut were standing.

“Who says I’m alone?” Colin snarled, and before the Darknut could react, without even really knowing how he did it, Colin split himself in two.

Red stepped out of Green with an evil smirk, meeting the Darknut’s incredulous gaze with a wink and a flick of his sword.

“You should probably learn to count.”

Before he could remove himself from where he’d locked blades with Green, Red slipped his sword between a gap in the Darknut’s armor with lightning speed, stabbing him in the chest.

The Darknut stepped back with a roar of pain, shield arm grasping fitfully where dark globs of black blood were seeping through his armor, his sword arm slashing wildly at Red who vanished in a flash of light before the blade could touch him.

“Curse you!” he snarled, unable to hide the way he was gasping in pain. “I’ll kill you for this, Colin Smith!”

“You’re free to try,” Colin replied levelly, gripping his sword tightly in both hands, feeling his singular devotion to the promise he’d made to the little girl cowering behind him flood through his veins. The light overhead was bright, glinting off of his sword, warming his skin, making the ring of monsters hiss and shield their eyes. “But I have a promise to keep.”

With a wordless snarl, the Darknut hurled his heavy blade in Colin’s direction, forcing him to throw himself to the ground or risk being chopped in two. When he scrambled back to his feet, he saw the man discard his shield, his helmet, and his heavier bits of armor, returning to his chainmail form and drawing the narrow blade from his waist.

“A cowardly trick,” the Darknut spat, “surprising me that way… with this wound, I cannot wear my full armor. Don’t think you’ve won the advantage, however. Now it begins for real, boy.”

As one, the two rushed to meet each other, blades glinting in the light.

* * *

The skeletal behemoth let out a roar and slammed its hand on the ground, fingers thick as branches digging furrows through the loose dirt as she narrowly avoided being squashed like a bug. At the last moment, Aryll dodged out of the way, summoning every ounce of her track training and throwing it into an awkward sort of lunge-pirouette, desperately swinging her hammer about and slamming it into the monster’s massive skeletal hand.

The pinky shattered, vanishing into sickly rotten dust, but Aryll didn’t stand around to celebrate, knowing that any second now Buffalo Bill here was going to take another whack at grinding her into dust. Before the dust clouds could even begin to dissipate Aryll was sprinting back towards the edge of the canyon, putting as much ground between her and giant skeleton man as she could.

Irritation tugged at her and she set off at a sprint, magical boots enhancing her speed. The creature made another swipe as she drew near which she easily dodged and, as she sprinted past the lowest vertebra, she struck out with her hammer.

The aged bone shattered, the monster roared in pain, and the valley shook as its massive form dropped down a good five feet, dust shaken free of its bones. The giant skeleton turned its red-eyed gaze toward her and she could practically feel its fury. Well, looks like old antler boy wasn’t going to take this standing down… or were they antlers? No, those had prongs and stuff. These were more straight-ish… a bull maybe? Or a ram? What else had horns… a yak?

The goat (bull/yak/buffalo/whatever) let out another rage-filled bellow and lowered its head, leaving it jaw gaping wide open. Some sixth sense told Aryll to run and she obeyed her instinct without really thinking.

A split second later, a stream of black fog spewed forth from the monster’s open maw almost like a tongue of dark flame, only rather than burning, whatever it touched seemed to corrode and disintegrate on contact. Aryll blanched as she ran. It was probably better not to let herself get touched by that… whatever it was. Switching gears, she pulled herself away from the edge of the wall and dove back down towards the monster’s spine. Dropping down another five feet as the bone shattered, Aryll was delighted to see the sternum crack and several ribs topple to the ground where they immediately vanished into smoke.

Something caught her foot as she raced back to the perimeter of the canyon and she ate dirt, hard. At the speed she'd been running, she tumbled head-over-foot several times before finally coming to rest lying on her side. Thankfully she hadn't broken anything, but her face and mouth were covered in dirt and she felt like throwing up. Disoriented, she managed to locate which direction was up just in time to see the massive shadow fall over her and kick her body into gear. Scrambling to her feet, she managed to dart out of the way, hammer in hand, moments before the skeletal abomination's hand came crashing down where she'd been standing.

Twisting around she darted back towards the monster’s spine, narrowly avoiding a two-fisted blow from sled-sized fists, and zeroed in on her target. This was taking too long; it was now or never. Coming to a sudden halt, dust billowing up around her from the speed of her footsteps, Aryll planted her feet and swung her hammer horizontally, shattering the next vertebra.

The giant dropped down another five feet and half the ribcage crumbled to dust leaving the giant half bent over, unable to support himself anymore. She could see the giant’s gaping jaw, feel the gust of air as it prepared to blow its caustic breath, and rather than run she squeezed her eyes tight, swallowed her terror and brought her hammer down one final time.

The skeletal behemoth dropped another five feet and fell to pieces, limbs and bones falling around her like a morbid rain. Coughing, she tugged her hammer free of the remains and hastily began removing herself from the rubble. She’d done it. She’d killed the giant. No more enemy reinforcements would be coming! Now all that was left was to kill the ones who’d already come and keep Neri safe! She needed to get back to Colin as quickly as possible and-

Something rustled amidst the pile of massive bones behind her.

Aryll barely had time to leap back before the pile of desiccated bones exploded outwards. As the debris rained down around her, Aryll squinted through the dust and felt her heart stop as a pair of glowing red eyes glared back at her.

It was the skull of the giant skeleton, glowing rune-encrusted sword still lodged within its temple, disembodied and floating alone in the air over the remains of its body.

She almost felt like weeping.

How as this not over yet?! How?!

It opened its mouth and Aryll braced herself for another ear-splitting shriek before noticing the swiftly growing ball of red-orange flame within.

She turned and ran.

* * *

The Darknut roared in outrage as he stumbled back, blood dripping from his free arm.

“Curse you, Colin Smith!” he bellowed, angling a heavy downward blow that would have cleaved Colin’s head from his shoulders had he not managed to block it with his sword at the last possible second.

The moment that their blades touched, Colin split himself again and Red burst out of him like a psychedelic after image, slashing his blade at the Darknut’s unprotected side only to be rebuffed by the larger man’s superior reflexes. Colin, however, was faster in his own way; the moment that the Darknut began his swing to intercept Red, Blue came into existence on his other side, driving his blade into the enemy’s thigh.

The man stumbled back almost drunkenly, laying about with his blade to keep Colin at bay, but his Red and Blue doppelgangers vanished into thin air, returning to their host body, and Colin was once again whole.

He couldn’t repress the evil smirk that had formed on his face; the moment that Colin had realized he was still capable of dividing himself between his four alternate versions, the entire flow of the battle had suddenly turned in his favor. It didn’t matter that the Darknut had superior strength, speed, and skill; one of Colin's copies could split itself from him at any moment to seize any opening and could vanish just as quickly before taking any damage. Even better, it seemed as though the damage they took disappeared when they did; Purple Colin no longer bore the wound from being stabbed in the gut, and all of them were working in perfect tandem with Colin's will. No more disparate personalities, no more clashes of opposing will. Colin was one with himself now, finally. He wasn't sure why, exactly; it might have something to do with him finally coming to terms with Aryll and all of his baggage from last year, but he felt like a new man, and it was showing. Suddenly, keeping Neri safe didn't seem so impossible. In fact, the fight was almost downright unfair. 

Stumbling back to give himself more space, the Darknut stared Colin down with a malevolent glare, his chest heaving, blood dripping from the numerous cuts and scrapes and bruises that Colin had given him over the course of their duel. To be honest, Colin was thriving off of the emotional buzz he was feeling at this moment. Never in his memory had he ever felt more confident, more competent, more in control. His boast about killing the Darknut earlier had seemed madness to him; now, it felt like an inevitability. After all, it was four against one. The odds were in his favor.

“Wretched child…” the Darknut panted, but to Colin's surprise, his gaze was turned towards the heavens and the pillar of light that still shown down around them, glinting harshly off of his dark armor. “This is your work, isn’t it? Piece of filth. Your magic will not save you. My master will see you in chains!”

“What are you talking about?” Colin spat, drawing the Darknut’s attention back to him.

“Why speak as if you do not know, Colin Smith?” he grated out, his voice sounding haggard. “As if I would not recognize this cursed light. There is no other way you could best me save by their interference. But I will not go down so easily… If you will not show honor in our duel, neither shall I. All hands, attack!”

Colin hadn't expected that. Wrapped up in trying to fathom the meaning behind his words, he panicked when he realized the ring of monsters that had been watching their fight from the sidelines was now rushing forward, every one of them gunning for Neri. Everyone except the Darknut; he was limping forward, blade held aloft, coming straight to intercept Colin.

Colin did the only thing he could think of. Raising his own blade, he divided himself into four and sent Red, Blue, and Purple out to protect Neri while Green stayed to face the Darknut alone. All around him the battle raged, the sounds of monsters screaming and the clash of blades enveloping all, and yet the only thing Green could think of as the Darknut approached was that he’d lost his advantage. Unless he could hold out until his other selves brought an end to the monsters, he’d have to find some way to defeat him alone.

The Darknut surged forward and their blades met, the clash of metal on metal ringing loudly in Green’s ears, and in a heartbeat they were off, exchanging blows. Movies made sword fighting look graceful, like a dance, but Colin was no expert blade master. He swung his weapon in stiff, clumsy movements, half-remembering the lessons he’d been allowed to take over the summer and praying to the Goddesses it’d be enough to keep him alive.

Thankfully, the cuts he’d managed to land on the Darknut earlier were slowing him down considerably. His footwork was off from the blow to his thigh, his left arm was practically useless, and the initial wound to his side was clearly paining him. He’d lost so much blood already, it was a miracle the man was still on his feet. Still, it was a testament to his superior skill that even with all of his disadvantages, Colin was still doing everything in his power to keep the man at bay.

On the fringes of his vision, he could see spurts of the battle around him. He wasn't sure how it was going, but he saw Purple decapitate a goblin and Blue stab his blade through a wolf’s back, but how many there were left to fight and where Neri was he couldn’t be sure. He needed to focus on taking down the Darknut and then he could join the others in keeping her safe.

Without warning, the Darknut rammed the butt of his blade into Green’s chest and sent him sprawling to the floor. Coughing violently, Green had time to look up just as the armored man’s long, thin blade was a heartbeat away from penetrating his gut.

“You die, Smith!”

The light grew in intensity, far stronger than it should have. It glinted off of Green’s sword, impossibly, shining at the wrong angle yet still somehow flaring in the Darknut’s face. He stumbled back with a hoarse cry, his hand raising to shield his eyes.

His body went rigid as the point of Red’s sword came tearing through his chest from behind. With a hollow gurgle, the man sank to his knees, his gaze locked on Green’s in dark surprise. The light dimmed.

In a flash of smoke, he was gone.

Green remained where he was on the floor, a look of stunned disbelief on his face. The battle around them had come to an end, Red, Blue, and Purple having seemingly done away with the ring of monsters in record time while Green had held his duel with the Darknut. They gathered around him in a weak huddle, blood dripping from cuts and wounds all over their bodies. Sending nervous glances behind them where they could already hear another wave of monsters approaching, all three of them vanished into flecks of light, returning to Green.

Colin blinked and rose unsteadily to his feet. It was always weird, forming back together. All of the memories of the alternate Colins sort of meshed into one, and after fusing he could never be sure which of them had been the main Colin and which was just a magical copy.

“Colin…?”

“Everything’s ok, Neri,” he panted, keeping his back to her so she couldn’t see the worry or exhaustion on his face. “We’re almost done. Aryll will beat the monster soon, and then we can… we can go.”

Overhead, the clouds were breaking all over, but the single pillar of light still illuminated him and the rockface that held Neri. What did it mean? Where did it come from? He was tempted to say it was a signal telling the monsters where they were, but the warmth seemed to be comforting him, and the light had saved him from the Darknut.

The monster had cursed it as though it were more than a natural phenomenon, but Colin didn’t have time to think about it now. He had bested the Darknut, but more monsters were coming and would keep coming until Aryll saved the day.

It was all riding on her, now.

* * *

There was a high-pitched whistle followed by an enormous explosion, and the heat she felt licking her back spurred her on to run as fast as she could. She ran in a large circle around the base of the crater as the floating skull chased after her, releasing volley after volley of explosive balls of flame, each one seemingly falling just short of burning her to a crisp.

These shoes were a great find. She needed to thank whoever it was who decided to leave them for her. Were it not for them, not only would getting to the bottom of this chasm have been impossible, but so would have fighting the giant skeleton and dodging its decapitated fireballs. Now if only they would show her a way out of here, that would be the icing on the cake.

Noticing the start of the passage that wound around the perimeter of the crater and back up to the valley above just in front of her, Aryll made as though to turn in that direction only to have a fireball zip over her shoulder and slam into the front of the path, engulfing it momentarily in flame.

Deciding to forgo that route for the time being, Aryll turned and made to make another circuit of the base of the chasm only to notice after a few seconds that the fireballs had stopped. Had the creature run out of ammo? Did it just get tired of trying to hit her? Deciding to risk a glance over her shoulder, she was momentarily stupefied to find that she didn’t see the floating skull anywhere.

A scream overhead caught her attention, and she glanced up just in time to see a group of monsters shoved off the path and down twenty feet to the rocky ground below. It was the skull… it had shot that last fireball to get her to change course and then had taken advantage of her confusion to continue on up the path without her. It was trying to get out, trying… trying to get to Colin and Neri! Forget normal monster reinforcements, that thing could barbecue the two of them from twenty feet away! She needed to stop it!

Without further hesitation, Aryll tore back to the base of the passageway and immediately began her ascent, lungs burning in her chest and heart hammering in her throat. And to think, she’d actually thought that she’d saved the day. When she finally got a hold of that masked boy she was going to _destroy him_ …

The giant, disembodied skull was nearly opposite her along the pathway up the crater, and the two were essentially keeping pace. She was fast, she knew, especially now with these boots on, but the floating head may as well have been a hovercraft from some sci-fi movie.

It zipped along at a ludicrous speed, knocking the last straggling bands of monsters out of its way, blasting through them with its balls of flame. If there was one good thing about it making its way out of the chasm it was that it was taking out all the monsters that were in its way as it went. None of that mattered if she couldn’t catch up to it, however.

Just ahead of her, she noticed a gaggle of monster stragglers who had managed to avoid being run over by the runaway skull, including one particularly tall, fat one with a heavy square shield. An idea blossomed.

Praying to all three Goddesses that it would work, Aryll threw all of her strength into her legs and leaped on top of a smaller goblin, using him a springboard to jump on top of the larger fat one, and then, twisting her body like she was clearing the horizontal bar at a track meet, she jumped one last time and barely managed to clear the ledge up onto a higher level of the pathway, just ahead of the skull.

She made it, her body tumbling over itself on the dry, dusty path, and she scrambled to her feet just in time to see the oncoming skull zooming towards her. It saw her at just the same moment, mouth opening wide, another ball of flame forming in its mouth.

Aryll never even considered running. If she let this thing get past her again, she didn’t think she’d be able to catch up before it got to Neri and Colin. She needed to stop it and she needed to do it now. Securing her grip on the hammer, she set off at a dead sprint straight towards it, ignoring the aching in her chest and the burning in her legs, feeling a crazed scream tearing itself from her throat as she challenged the monster before her, both of them moments away from a head-on collision.

The moment before it released the ball of flame it held building up in its jaw, Aryll leaped to the side and kicked off the canyon wall. The ball zipped past her, missing her by inches, exploding harmlessly on the path behind her just as she reached her target, hammer drawn back in both hands, her defiant scream reaching a crescendo.

Her hammer struck the hilt of the sword, driving the blade clear through the skull’s forehead. With an effusion of red light, the disembodied cranium shattered like aged pottery, the sword exploding in a wave of fiery blackness, and Aryll was caught by the blast in midair.

She was thrown forwards, body whipping head-over-heels before she slammed onto her back several feet away along the path, the wind completely driven from her lungs. Her hammer clattered away uselessly.

For an unknown period of time, Aryll lay completely still, eyes clenched shut, body wracked with wave after wave of sheer agony. She couldn’t breathe, she hurt everywhere, and all she wanted to do was curl up into the fetal position and whimper. When she finally did manage to take a small breath and open her eyes, she noticed two things. The first was that the blanket of dull cloud cover had finally broken and the first beams of light she could remember seeing in a long, long time were shining down on her, warming her face. The second was that everything was quiet.

Pushing herself to an unsteady seated position, Aryll cocked her head to the side and examined the crater around her. The last of the monsters ought to still be making their way out of the passage and into the valley above. Yet as she craned her head and looked around, not a single one could be seen.

Did that mean that they had all already gone out and Colin was facing the last of them? Or did it perhaps mean that by killing the giant skull and shattering that stupid cursed sword she’d caused them all to disappear? That would be a lovely thought… Or else… Maybe they’d all vanished because Colin had fallen to the endless onslaught of monsters and Neri had been taken hostage.

The thought stung at her heart with surprising anguish and she forced herself to her feet with the last of her failing strength, snatching up her fallen hammer and starting off at a weak jog back up the passage. She needed to find Colin and Neri… She needed to know they were safe… She needed to know they’d won… She still had unfinished business to take care of.

Please don’t let them have failed.

* * *

Colin didn’t see the explosion, but he heard it.

The sound of it echoed like a hollow boom across the rock formations, silencing all other noise. It was like a calm had fallen over the otherwise hectic battleground. As one, all four Colins, Neri, and even all of the monsters paused what they were doing and turned to face the direction of the crater as the force of the distant bang washed over them. Green didn’t know what it was per se, but he knew that it had something to do with Aryll, and he wasn’t sure that it was good.

A heartbeat later, every monster in the immediate vicinity suddenly exploded into puffs of black smoke, tiny granules of evil floating away on the wind, and a moment after that, they were alone.

It was over…?

Perhaps the normal thing to do in this situation would be to keep one’s guard up until they were certain that they were home free, but Colin was more exhausted than he even knew it was possible to feel.

Almost as soon as the monsters vanished, the other three Colins took it as their signal to disappear as well and their individual consciousnesses slammed back into Colin with jarring abruptness. Before he knew it, he was on his knees, sword tumbling from his aching hands, sweat pouring down his face and legs wobbling like jelly.

It was over. It was finally over. He’d done it… Neri was safe…

A moment later, said little girl was at his side, midnight-blue eyes peering worryingly into his. 

“Colin, are you ok?!”

He blinked. Yeah, he was ok… but he doubted he’d ever been this tired in his entire life. Splitting himself in four like that took its toll. It was basically four times as tired, and with all the fighting and jumping around and adrenaline… If he could keel over right here and take a nap on the floor, he probably would. Actually, that didn’t sound like such a bad idea…

“Colin? Colin?!”

Oh, Neri. Right. She probably expected an answer.

Rather than talk, though, because to do that required way too much energy, Colin instead opened up his arms and pulled her into a tight, bone-crushing hug. He tried to express all the relief and affection he had inside him in that one simple gesture, and she seemed to feel it, for a moment later she had her arms around his neck and her face buried in his chest. Her shoulders were trembling. Well, if she wanted to cry, let her cry. He kinda wanted to cry too, from sheer relief. Goddesses, it was over! They were alive! Haha!

An unspecified amount of time later, she finally managed to detach herself from Colin’s grip and gazed silently up at his face, her cheeks red and blotchy and her eyes swollen with tears. He couldn’t stop himself from reaching forward and adjusting her glasses. Seriously, these things were never straight… she needed some new ones. He went ahead and tucked her hair behind her ears, too. He probably looked completely disheveled, but that didn’t mean she had to as well. It was like he could hear his mother’s voice in his head scolding him for not taking better care of her.

“Colin…” Neri mumbled, catching his hand before he could put it back on his lap. “Thank you… for saving me. And for being so nice. You didn’t… I mean, you don’t…”

"Of course I do," Colin replied, trying hard not to let his weariness shine through his words. “I promised I’d keep you safe, remember? I keep my promises.”

She flushed and accepted his hand, letting him pull her to her feet, and the two shared one last sideways hug before breaking apart. Colin heaved a heavy breath. This wasn’t over yet.

“C’mon, Neri. Aryll should be back by now, let’s go make sure she’s ok.”

Rather than answer, she pointed forward and asked, “What’s that?”

Colin lifted his head and looked in the direction she was pointing. It looked like a dust cloud, only it was coming straight towards them at a high speed.

Colin’s eyebrows rose.

“I think that’s Aryll…” he murmured, feeling surprised. If she still had enough energy to run then there was no way she was anywhere near as tired as he was. And here he thought he was sending her to do the hard job.

Too late, he realized that she was getting dangerously close and showing no signs of slowing down. Swallowing uncomfortably, he took a cautious step away from Neri and started to say, “Maybe we should get out of the-" before she collided with him at full speed and the two were sent crashing to the floor in a painful heap.

They hit the ground and bounced, rolled a couple of times, and when the world finally stopped spinning Colin opened his eyes to find himself lying flat on his back, staring up at the beautiful afternoon sky, and his entire body throbbed in agony as the light washed over him.

He let out a pained moan. “Ooh… Din, that hurt… What, did you forget where the breaks were?”

A twin groan of agony sounded from somewhere above him. “No… I just… Didn’t think I was moving that fast…”

It took him a second to realize that the weight he was feeling on top of his chest was a person, and another second to realize that person was Aryll.

His head shot up off the ground and the world spun dizzyingly.

“Are you guys ok?!” came the horrified wail of Colin’s newfound little sister, and he tilted his head to see her standing off to the side, eyes wide and face pale. Colin’s sword and Aryll’s hammer were lying in the dirt several feet away where they’d flown on impact, forgotten.

He didn’t know how to answer that question. Aryll Hero was lying on his chest. The girl he knew would never be caught dead even touching him, let alone laying atop him in such a… suggestive manner. In spite of himself and all the progress he’d made today, there was still a part of him that found her indescribably beautiful, even all ruffled up like this. Especially all ruffled up like this. He needed to get her off him, now.

“Um, Aryll,” he muttered awkwardly, clearing his throat and feeling his cheeks begin to burn.

The smaller girl let her vibrant cerulean eyes flutter open unsteadily and slowly focused in on Colin in confusion.

“You, uh… want to get off me?”

She blinked, not understanding, and then her eyes flew wide in horror. Scrambling back, face burning, she hastily pushed herself to her feet, wobbled unsteadily and nearly fell over, her hands flying from her hair to her clothes, trying to straighten herself out even while her eyes darted everywhere, looking at everything but him.

Colin clambered to his feet with a bit more grace, smiling reassuringly at Neri and fixing Aryll with an odd look. She was acting weird. If he didn’t know any better he’d say she was flustered, only Aryll didn’t get flustered.

“So, you did it,” Colin offered, breaking the awkward silence with no small hesitation. “Stopped the monster and somehow got rid of all the reinforcements. That’s pretty impressive.”

He meant it as a peace offering, half-expecting her to tell him she told him so. She scuffed her boot on the ground but still didn’t make eye contact, and he frowned.

“Yeah, um… Turns out it had something to do with that weird glowing sword from earlier. I think, at least. I mean, when I broke it all the monsters vanished, but… I mean yeah, I did it. You did too. I mean, um, you kept Neri safe against all those monsters all by yourself. That’s… that’s pretty amazing too.”

“Nah, I wasn’t alone. I had Neri with me,” he said, sending the younger girl a cheeky wink.

Neri blushed, then stuck her tongue out at him playfully, prompting him to pull a grotesque face in return. Aryll glanced up just in time to see it, frowning in confusion, and he hastily straightened his features, playing dumb.

“Yeah…” she mumbled, looking between Colin and Neri with an unreadable expression, and Colin had to stop himself from frowning again. Seriously, what was going on with her? She was being so weird all of a sudden.

Did this have to do with the fight they’d had earlier? Honestly, he felt a little weird about it too, but it helped that he’d been split in four at the time and hadn’t exactly been himself. Oh, he meant every word, but… well, if it hadn’t been Red who’d been speaking, he probably wouldn’t have phrased it the way he had. Still, even though he’d announced aloud that he hated her, it wasn’t like he actively hated her. It was more like… he hated the person she’d become, but in spite of that, and in spite of the fact that he was wholly dedicated to turning over a new leaf, there would always be a part of him that cared about her. It was hard to stop loving someone, even after all the crap the two of them had been through.

“So, um…” Colin tried, fishing for something to break the ice. “Why did you tackle me to the ground?”

Aryll finally met his gaze, and he was startled to find fear in them. She opened her mouth to respond, hesitated, swallowed thickly, and then looked back down at the ground, playing with her fingers.

Colin was at a loss.

“Aryll...?” he tried again, taking a half-step forward, feeling suddenly worried, and she cut him off with a quickly flung up hand.

“No! Colin, don’t-! Don’t do that, just…! Ugh! Give me a second!”

His eyebrows rose but he quietly did as she asked, stepping backward and giving her some space.

She was pacing back and forth now, wringing her hands like a madwoman, her eyes glaring down at the dirt as if it had done her some great personal affront. Neri sent him a worried look but he gave her a placating nod. Aryll was fine, she was just… losing her mind momentarily. She’d be back to her callous, normal self in just a moment. He hoped.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of pacing, Aryll let out a deranged sort of laugh and asked, exasperated, “Why-? How… How did you do this to me?”

“Do what?” He asked confused, and she reached up to tug at both chunks of her hair in a strangled sort of way.

“This! Make me…! Just, ugh! I don’t… I can’t… Ah! Why can’t I find the words?! Why can’t I do what you did?! Help me! I don’t understand what I need to do!”

“Aryll, you’re not making any sense.” Colin offered uneasily, hesitantly stepping forward once more and feeling silently relieved when she didn’t snap at him again.

Instead, she slumped her shoulders and buried her face in her hands looking defeated. That was almost worse.

“I know…” she whined petulantly, her voice coming out muffled through her fingers. “I’m so confused. Why are you so confusing?”

“Practice.” He joked lamely, though he somehow managed to coax a wry smile out of her with his lame attempt at tension-defusing humor. “Want to explain to me what it is I did?”

“You know what you did,” she barked, but there was no heat in her voice. Sighing in a resigned sort of way, she turned to face him and folded her arms across her chest self-consciously. “Earlier, when you… when we were fighting. You… It was like you just… got over everything. And I mean, the weird thing is I thought I was supposed to be all mad, but… I’m not. I mean, I’m happy. I’m happy that you’re ok. Why is that? I spent the last year unable to even hear your name without flying off the handle, and now I suddenly find myself… “

She took a deep, shuddering breath and ran her palms over her face as if she could rub out the wrinkles in her emotions.

“Just tell me why you can move on and I can’t?” she whispered, sounding fragile. “Why you can yell that you hate me and I’m ok with it? Why I can spend a whole year believing that you’re the scum of the earth only to suddenly not care anymore about what you did? What’s happening, Colin? What am I supposed to feel right now?”

Colin, however, didn’t have an answer. In fact, his mind had gotten stuck on one particular phrase and he found himself repeating it back to her in a bemused sort of way.

“You don’t care about what I did last year?”

Aryll shrugged lamely, not meeting his eyes again. “I mean… yes? I don’t know… Before, just thinking about it made me want to strangle you, but then… I dunno, you started talking about what I’d been doing to you all last year, and I… I mean, I never realized what I… it’s like, you didn’t exist to me anymore, the you who was my friend and then my boyfriend, and all that was left was the guy that broke my heart, and… I mean, I can’t forgive him, not ever, not for what he did to me, but that’s not fair to the real you… but I still can’t, you know? Like, I feel like you don’t deserve it, but at the same time what I’ve been doing to you all this time is just as horrible, and… I mean, I don’t deserve it either, do I? And I guess I’ve just been thinking that… well, if I can’t forgive you and you can’t forgive me, then… I mean, does it matter anymore? Doesn’t it kind of… cancel itself out? I’m so tired of fighting… I just want it to stop. Please tell me what I need to do to make it stop.”

There were tears pouring out of her eyes now, and Colin felt rooted to the spot. On one hand, he felt an odd sort of vindication in knowing that she finally understood what she had put him through for so long. But on the other hand…

“Aryll… Me too. I want it to stop too. But I… I don’t know what you need to do. I think it’s different for everyone. I think it’s something you have to figure out for yourself.”

She snorted in a self-deprecating sort of way and looked down at the ground.

“Yeah. Figures. I should have known that was the answer…”

“But…” Colin continued, and Aryll glanced back up, a small spark of hope in her eyes.

“Aryll… what I said, back when we had that argument… I meant it. But I also… well, it isn’t entirely true. I mean I hate you. But I also care about you more than I can really explain. I think you have to care about someone before you can actually hate them, before hating them is even possible, because they’re not all that different when it gets down to it. But the you I hate, it’s not the you you used to be, it’s… It’s this new you, this person you became after the shooting. And yeah, I probably have a lot to do with that, but… I guess what I’m getting at is… Well, I’m sorry. For what I said. I mean I meant it, and I’m not taking it back, but that’s no excuse for hurting your feelings. I’m sorry for screwing you up again. So… yeah.”

He frowned to himself, not meeting her gaze. He kind of felt like he'd taken a step backward, yet… well, it was true. He was sorry. He did still care about her. And maybe it wasn't in the way he used to, but it was still strong, and he didn't like knowing that he was causing someone pain. This new person he was choosing to be wasn't the kind of guy who hurt other people, willingly or by accident. He was sticking to his convictions this time, and whether he was in the right or wrong no longer seemed relevant anymore.

“You’re sorry…?” Aryll breathed so quietly that Colin had to look at her to be sure that she’d actually spoken.

“I… Yeah, I am. I mean, I know you said you’d never forgive me, but that’s not really the point of an apology, is it? I just wanted to-“

“I’m sorry,” Aryll blurted out, and Colin trailed off into splutters. A deranged sort of look had come over Aryll’s face, and she was gazing at him with such fervid intensity that he very nearly drew back.

“I, uh… you… what?”

“I’m sorry,” she repeated, even louder, and then before Colin knew what was happening she was stumbling forward, face pale, eyes wide, and in a moment she had thrown her arms around his waist and buried her face in his neck.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry… I didn’t know, I didn’t think about what I was doing, I just knew that I was mad at you and I wanted you to hurt like I was hurting and I stole all your friends but I never actually cared about how you were feeling and I’m a monster and you _should_ hate me and I didn’t realize until right now how ashamed I am and how badly I want you to forgive me but it doesn’t matter because I don’t deserve it and I just want you to be happy again and forget I ever existed…”

She said all that in one breath and then sort of trailed off into an indecipherable string of wails and sobs while Colin stood paralyzed, awkwardly patting her on the back and trying not to faint.

Was this… real life? Was this actually happening? He’d asked that about ten thousand times today as magic and monsters had come alive before his eyes, and yet nothing he’d seen or experienced today had seemed as surreal as this moment. The moment he’d been praying for since the shooting had ended last year. And it happens just after he’d finally gotten over her?

Of course.

Still… Even though she was crying her eyes out on his shoulder, there was still a part of him that didn’t want to forgive her. A part of him that wanted her to suffer through the next year just as he had suffered.

His eyes landed on Neri, standing uncomfortably behind Aryll and looking dutifully at anywhere but her, and he remembered why he’d chosen to turn over a new leaf. He wanted to be a better person, not just for his new little sister, but for him. And the new him, the him he wanted to be… well, that new him refused to let Aryll wallow in despair just for some warped desire for vindication.

Slowly at first, but then with growing determination and feeling, he wrapped his arms around Aryll and pulled her in closer.

“Listen…” Colin whispered softly into her filthy, dust-covered hair. “Maybe you’re right, and what I did last year doesn’t deserve your forgiveness. And maybe I’m right, and what you’ve been doing to me ever since doesn’t deserve my forgiveness either. But I think that maybe we call it forgiving people and not forgiving actions because it’s the people who deserve our forgiveness, not the things they do.”

Aryll had grown still in his arms as he tried to find the words to explain what he wanted to without sounding silly.

“I guess what I’m saying is… I think you’re the kind of person who deserves forgiveness, Aryll. So I’m going to forgive you, for everything I’ve been through over the last year. I’m making that choice. You don't need to feel guilty over it anymore. And maybe one day, you’ll bring yourself to forgive me, too. But even if you don’t, you can still let this go. The only person holding you back is you.”

The next several minutes were spent trying to calm Aryll down as her tears doubled in strength until Colin’s arms were the only things that were keeping her upright.

The sunlight had grown strong again, as though the pillar from earlier had returned, but he didn’t bother looking up to confirm. Down below their feet, Colin noticed weeds for the first time. Dandelions. Had there been plants here before and he just hadn’t noticed?

Behind her, Neri had gotten bored and had dragged Colin’s sword and Aryll’s hammer over beside them, finally plopping down on the ground beside them, shooting Colin a few impatient looks, clearly eager to get out of there. How, exactly, Colin wasn’t sure… Yet he knew somehow that their trial was over. They’d get out soon. For now, however, he was content with giving Aryll this moment.

As for Aryll, he had no idea what the future would bring for them. He decided not to think about it. Whether they managed to salvage their friendship or walked out of this museum and never spoke another word to each other, or anything else that might happen, he would leave worrying about that for another day.

All around him the world began to shine with radiant intensity until he had to close his eyes against the pain. When he opened them again, the world around them had shifted.

They were back.


	27. The Face You Wear

When he’d found himself cornered in that alcove in the desert by a mysterious, marauding group of warrior women, Kafei had had no shortage of terrifying ideas about what might be in store for him next.

Getting a piggy-back ride had not been one of them.

The warrior women numbered five in total. It was obvious at first glance that they were Gerudo, what with their tanned skin, brightly colored eyes, and vibrant red hair. They were also all of them obscenely tall and obscenely muscular, and, bearing down on him with spears drawn and faces veiled, Kafei felt justified in the terror he’d experienced in that moment.

After they’d managed to trip him up with a bolas of some kind, ruining his escape attempt and surrounded him in a circle of sharp, shiny spear points, he’d flipped over onto his back, eyes wild and panicked, broken half of his rusty sword held up in shaky arms, and was met with five looks of confusion.

One of the women, the widest of the lot, turned to another and whispered, “This _vehvi_ is the Yiga we heard tell of?”

“Look at his eyes,” said another, who, now that he got a look at her, had to have been in her late sixties. “Red. He must be.”

“I have never seen a Yiga who was so young,” came a third response, and from the sound of her voice, she sounded young herself. “What do you say, Buliara?”

“Enough,” the one he assumed was Buliara responded, her voice stern and authoritative as she lifted her spear and ground its butt firmly in the dirt. Unlike the others, this woman also had a scimitar and a round shield strapped to her back. “Our informant said the Yiga were with a young _voe_ with purple hair. This must be the one they spoke of.”

“How did you escape?” the youngest of the women asked as she and the others put up their spears, and Kafei, realizing that he maybe wasn’t in danger of being shish-kebabbed after all, tried to swallow through the dirt and dust and form a cohesive response.

“I-I… uh, well…”

“Oh, you poor thing,” she cut in, stooping down so that she was closer to his level and removing her veil. She had emerald eyes and a bright, stunning smile. “You must be terrified. Do not worry, my sisters and I will keep you safe!”

The fifth woman who hadn’t yet spoken let out a rude scoff.

“ _Sa’oten_ , Kalani, he’s still a _vehvi_. I know you thirst for a mate, but I did not think you would rob a cradle.”

The other women chuckled, and Kalani, glowering petulantly, scooped up a dirt clod off the ground and threw it lightly at the other woman’s leg.

“Hush, Teake. Even I am not so desperate.”

“We cannot leave him here,” the largest woman offered up. “Should one of us return with him to the Bazaar?”

The oldest woman ‘tsked’ in annoyance, looking away, and Kalani raised her hand as though volunteering, but Buliara cut them off.

“No. We have come this far already, and the _voe_ may not have told us everything. Perhaps he was the one the informant spoke of, or perhaps he can give us information on the Yiga, but for now, we stick together and press on. We must reclaim the relic before nightfall, or I fear we may lose it forever.”

And so, without anyone asking his opinion, Kafei was freed of the ropes that had bound his legs, had his weapon taken, and was scooped up by one of the women to be carried on her back because they would move too slow otherwise and also because the burning sand would harm his bare feet.

Kafei wasn’t really sure how to feel about this. On the one hand, though he was sort of getting used to it by now, it was still humiliating to be treated like an incompetent child. On the other hand, he’d done his share of walking today; if someone else wanted to do it for him for a bit, then he might as well let them.

(Still… One young male, five grown, muscular, powerful females? He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was living out some pervert’s weirdly fetishistic fantasy.)

The real question was, what on earth was going on? Was this the masked boy’s trial? If so, which one? The one who’d stolen Majora’s Mask and had sent him here in the first place, or the one he’d met minutes before in the museum, who had said all those cryptic, nonsensical lines before the museum had shifted and Kafei had been brought here.

He couldn’t help but wish he’d been given a little more information. All he had to go off was something about a boy needing help, but there weren’t any ‘boys’ anywhere, so far as he could see. Well, other than himself. What were the chances that he was the boy in need of saving? That’d be a twist. A little too convenient though.

The women who had captured him were, it turned out, not at all unfriendly. Though they were suspicious of him, for reasons he considered completely justifiable, it was also clear that they did not consider him a threat of any kind. He was less of a hostage and more of a stray they had stumbled across and were taking care of until they could dump him on someone else, which was fine by him.

They were all of them warriors, and though they were on some sort of mission to reclaim an artifact that had been stolen, they weren’t stiff about it. Kalani had given him some slices of some strange melon that she carried in one of her pouches to help wet his throat, and taking advantage of the opening, Kafei used it as a way to start a conversation and get to know what was going on.

He was no stranger to social interaction. With his father as the mayor, he’d been forced to attend his fair share of social events and gatherings in which he was expected to be polite and friendly, rub shoulders with strangers and get on their good side, and as a result, he’d become really good at helping people feel at ease and getting them to open up.

Buliara was the leader of the group. Stern and straight-laced, she was nevertheless kind and fair and gave off an aura of confidence that made you want to listen and rely on her. Kalani, the youngest, was wide-eyed and inexperienced, and from the jokes frequently levied in her direction, it sounded like she was either a hopeless flirt or else had never actually met a male before Kafei and thus didn’t know what to do with herself (though how on earth that was even possible, Kafei didn’t know).

The largest and most muscular of the group was named Leena, and despite her imposing countenance, she was also easily the quickest to laugh. Teake, who was rail-thin and wiry, seemed disinterested in conversation and kept her gaze locked on the horizon for the majority of their travels. Finally, the oldest of the group and also the one carrying Kafei was bony Muava, whose scarlet mane was showing signs of grey. She had a wry, sarcastic tone that reminded him somewhat of Midna.

Though hesitant at first to speak with him due to the strangeness of his appearance (well, all save for Kalani, who seemed to think he was something like an adorable puppy and a little brother wrapped into one), the women eventually gave in and began speaking with him in earnest.

“Are you really not of the Yiga?” Kalani asked, ignoring the reproving look Buliara shot her over Muava’s head. “It is just… your eyes, they mark you as one of Shadowfolk heritage, but your hair…”

She trailed off as though his hair color needed no explanation, though what his hair had to do with having Shadowfolk in his blood, he didn’t know.

“I mean, I guess there’s probably at least a little Sheikah in my blood,” he answered casually. “But if I’m being honest, I don’t really know what my ancestry is. Sheikah, Hylian, Goron, Zora… you name it, there’s probably a little bit of everything in me.”

As one, the women erupted in peals of laughter.

“A little Goron, you say?” Leena chuckled amiably. “I should think even I would not be able to carry you were that the case, little _voe.”_

Sensing that he had said something particularly silly but deciding not to dwell on it, Kafei pressed on.

“Oh yeah,” he supplied airily, acting like he was in on the joke and trying to keep the good vibes going, “my family is basically the poster child for cultural diversity. There’s probably even a little Gerudo in me somewhere along the way.”

The laughter cut off as though strangled. The woman carrying him grew physically tense, and the smiles that glinted in the women’s eyes a moment before had vanished, only to be replaced by anger and afront. Some of them were even adjusting their grips on their spears.

Suddenly fearing for his life, Kafei went back over his words, trying to figure out what he’d said to offend them.

Buliara let out a sigh, then made a motion with her hands that had the other guards nodding stiffly and turning away, continuing their march in stony silence.

“You should take care with your words, little _voe_ ,” Buliara said quietly. “I do not believe that you meant to offend, but even a _vehvi_ such as yourself could find sharp reprimand if you are too loose with your tongue.”

“I… Sorry,” he replied, acutely aware that the muscles of the woman carrying him had not eased at all. “I didn’t mean to… What did I say that was so rude? Just so I can avoid saying it again.”

Buliara gave him a long, calculating look before eventually sighing and shaking her head.

“ _Sa’oten_ … You pretended as though you had Gerudo ancestry. Surely you must know the history of the Calamity. Or is this not taught wherever it is that you hail from?”

“The Calamity?” Kafei asked stupidly, and the woman carrying him gave her head an irritable toss, like a dog shaking off a flea.

“It is said that, once, the Calamity took on a human form, that of a _voe_ born among the Gerudo,” Buliara said, apparently incorrectly assuming that he knew what she meant by ‘Calamity’ and thus skipping its explanation entirely, “A Gerudo _vai_ giving birth to a _voe_ is exceedingly rare; not impossible, but uncommon enough that many believe it to be so. In over ten-thousand years, there is no history of a _voe_ being born among the Gerudo – not since the birth of the one who became the Calamity.”

It took a moment for Kafei to connect the dots. Oh, Goddesses… of course. How could he be so stupid? He’d been in the museum the entire night!

The original legend of the Hero of Time said that the King of Thieves had been the only man born among a tribe of thieves in the desert… This had always been linked to negative racial stereotyping in the past, prejudice against the Gerudo, and the bit about him being ‘the only man’ had been seen as creative license; after all, there were plenty of male Gerudo nowadays. Always had been. The idea that they had once been a race entirely comprised of women had been farcical.

Only, now that he knew the truth, knew that legends were real, that the King of Thieves, the Calamity, really did exist…

“It is the greatest shame of our people,” Buliara continued. “When he was born, it is said that we celebrated him as a gift from the Goddesses. We made him our king. And in turn, he waged war with the Kingdom of Hyrule, sought to steal the sacred power of the gods, and nearly destroyed the world. Were it not for Lady Nabooru, I fear our people would have been lost entirely.”

Kafei’s thoughts instantly went towards the Vice Principal of Ordon High, then shook his head; Nabooru was an extremely common surname among the Gerudo.

"What did she do?" he asked if only to keep the conversation going and hopefully steer it away from more dangerous topics.

Buliara smiled, puffing her chest out in pride.

“Lady Nabooru rebelled against the wicked king and sided with the Hero and the Princess. She was named Sage of Spirit and fought with the others against the Calamity. After the war, thanks to her contribution, the Gerudo were spared.”

“The Sage of Spirit?”

She nodded, filling in the rest of his question for him.

“Of course. The ones who guard the path to the Sacred Realm. The Sages were said to each represent a facet of natural law. Earth, sea, and sky, life and death, time. Lady Nabooru was the first Sage of Spirit.”

“So… which one is Spirit, then?” Kafei asked, confused. “Life or death?”

Muava snickered and Buliara shook her head in exasperation.

“You see, this is why I do not have _vehvis_ of my own. All they do is ask questions all day. Spirit is neither life or death, little _voe._ It is human will, the heart. It is what makes you who you are. The ability to hold fast to yourself no matter what forces are at play against you, just as she was able to resist the will of the Calamity and defy him. Without Spirit, we would all be as dumb animals in the wilderness. It is said that when Lady Nabooru charged into battle, her sisters-in-arms fought with boundless, unflagging courage. That is why she was called the ‘heart’.”

The heart? He had never heard that before. Then again, not a lot was actually known about the Sages – even in this world he was in, it sounded like she lived a long, long time ago. No sense in worrying about it.

Still. They made it sound a lot like she was the bard in a video game.

“This is why what the Yiga have done to the statue of the Seven Heroines is so grave an insult,” added Kalani, rejoining the conversation. “There are some who believe that the Seven Heroines represent the original Sages, and the Heroine who was defiled, it is said she represented Spirit.”

Words seemed to echo into Kafei’s mind.

“ _The Seven need their Spirit_.”

Was this it, then? Was this story about statue vandalism and petty theft really what his task was supposed to be?

“So then… The statues before… they’re supposed to be the Sages?”

Was that what the lights on the stone mural back in the museum had meant? The one that wasn’t glowing, was that to represent the orb that was stolen by the Yiga? But if so… why were four of them so dim?

Kalani seemed happy that he was following along.

“The relic that was stolen is also said to represent Spirit-“

“The Seven Heroines are a Gerudo legend,” Teake cut in, sounding indignant. “We may have been part of Hyrule, but let our legends be our own!”

Kalani opened her mouth again as though to argue but was cut off by Buliara.

“It matters not if the Seven were proud Gerudo warriors or if they were heroic Hyrulean sages. What matters is that the Yiga have disrespected our people and we will do what we must to set it to rights, as our Chief has ordered.”

An awkward silence filled the group as Buliara’s curt but quick reprimand silenced their bickering. Kafei, however, wasn’t done talking. Something wasn’t adding up. Namely, the number of statues.

“You keep saying ‘The Seven Heroines’ and the ‘Seven Sages’, but there were only six statues back there. Where’s the seventh?”

Buliara sighed and shot him an annoyed look as though he were her unruly child who simply refused to obey her commands.

“It was stolen, or so the stories say,” Leena chimed in. From the furtive look on her face, she was clearly trying to answer before Kalani or Teake did so as to avoid more arguing and the potential of setting Buliara off. “It is said they are lost somewhere amid the Gerudo Highlands, but no one has ever seen them.”

“Because it is a cold and miserable place,” Muava added. “And nobody cares to stay long enough to look.”

A wave of chuckles stole over the group for a moment, followed by silence. The conversation, it would seem, had ended.

For Kafei’s part, however, he couldn’t stop thinking about the trial and the possible connection to the Sages. Though it may appear that he was in a desert (though the hills of sands had vanished behind them a while back, replaced by hard-packed dirt and rocky inclines), he knew that he was actually trapped within the museum. A museum focused on the Hero of Time. And the Sages had played important roles in that story.   
  
It was very possible that this trial of his had something to do with the Sages. The lights glowing on the rock in the room about ancient temples before seemed to be clue enough, but what the second masked boy had said about ‘the seven’ and ‘Spirit’, and with there being seven Sages… That, and one of the Sages had allegedly been a Gerudo, and here he was with other Gerudo. There was too much for this to be a coincidence.   
  
Sage of Spirit, huh… Well, Bard or no Bard, he couldn’t help but feel like ‘Spirit’ might just be the lamest of all the Sages. After all, wasn’t there one who was the Sage of Fire? He didn’t know if Sages actually had, like, superpowers or whatnot, but if the Fire guy could actually shoot fire out of their hands or whatever, then Spirit seemed incredibly lame in comparison.

According to Buliara, the Sage of Spirit had been able to ‘hold true to themselves’, whatever that meant. Not exactly the most beneficial special ability…

Then again… Last year, during the shooting, being able to keep himself under control might have been pretty useful. When Sakon had shot Anju, when he thought he'd lost her… he'd completely given in to his rage and despair. The things he'd done, the way he'd acted… They haunted him to this day. Leaving Zelda and Aryll to look after his girlfriend while she bled out on the floor hadn't just been stupid, it'd been selfish. Maybe he was judging the Sage of Spirit a little too quickly. 

Still. It was hard to see how any of that information about the previous Sage was useful now. It’s not like they were here.

A chill wind blew past, catching at his cape and making him shiver. Looking around, he was surprised to see that they’d left the desert almost completely behind them. The landscape was still dry and arid, but the rocky path they’d been following had led them up the side of a mountain, where they were even now lost amid its twisty, labyrinthine passages, steadily climbing higher. The not-so-distant peaks were snowcapped. He was really beginning to regret being barefoot and in shorts.

The walls of the canyon opened up without warning, and the five warriors and Kafei found themselves on a ledge overlooking a small, circular clearing. Three or four figures could be seen; men in leather-padded outfits, carrying wickedly-curved sickles and sporting white masks with what looked to be an inverted version of the Sheikah Eye symbol.

On the far end, guarded by two masked figures, was a small nook carved into the stone. Wooden planks had been secured together in front of the hidey-hole, held together by thick ropes, forming a cage of sorts. And there, within the cage, was the unmistakable figure of a small, purple-haired child.

So there was another boy…

The ledge didn’t exactly provide cover for Kafei and his posse, however; almost as soon as they saw the armed men, the men saw them.

Without preamble, with no shouts or cries or dramatic fanfare, almost as if both parties had known this was going to happen beforehand, the two groups of warriors seized their weapons and charged at one another.

Muava dropped Kafei to join her sisters, eliciting a surprised and pained squawk from the boy as his tailbone struck the cold, hard ground. As the Gerudo leaped from the ledge, spears bared, charging down their foes, Kafei scrambled hastily to his feet, fighting with his cape which seemed insistent upon tangling up his legs. He was weaponless, sure, but maybe if he grabbed a rock or something, he could swoop down over the battlefield and…

Something caught his arm when he tried to hurry forward.

“What do you think you are doing, little _voe_?”

It was Buliara. He hadn’t even realized she’d stayed behind. Why? To watch him?

“I… Going to help!” he blathered, gesturing wildly at the ensuing chaos before him. What, did she really expect him to just stand there and watch?

“Do my warriors look as though they require the assistance of a _vehvi_ to defeat a few sneaking Yiga?” Buliara asked, quirking a brow, her voice thick with scorn.

Kafei turned back to the battle and hesitated. Actually… Now that she mentioned it, they seemed to have the upper hand

The battle was four-on-four, but the Yiga (what in the world was a Yiga? He’d never heard that name mentioned in the museum) were definitely on the ropes, being pushed hard by the Gerudo women whose strength seemed supernatural.

The Yiga weren’t bad at fighting, per se, but the Gerudo women were taller, stronger, and their spears had far greater reach than the curved sickles carried by the Yiga. Sweet, earnest Kalani looked fierce and fiery over her veil. Teake pressed the attack with practiced, surgical precision. Leena bulldozed her opponent through sheer force, and even old Muava seemed more than a match for her opponent.

Honestly, if things kept going the way they were going… this would be a shut-out.

Was… that allowed? This was supposed to be his test, right? Was it really ok for him to win by just standing here?

Maybe things were finally going his way…

But of course, things were never that simple. As though in response to his thoughts, as though the masked boy were listening in and had timed this just for this moment, a figure appeared on an opposing ledge.

Kafei had to blink several times to make sure he was seeing things correctly.

It was… a centaur. Sort of. It had the body of a horse, though where the horse’s head should be extended the torso of a man. However, instead of a human head, the creature seemed to have the face of what might have been a lion, complete with savage jaws and a thick, bushy mane that hung low over its bulging pectorals like a rugged beard.

The mane itself was white, though the rest of its fur and skin were blue. Two horns stuck out of his forehead like a bull. Perhaps most alarming of all, however, was its size. This thing was massive, easily standing taller than two grown men on their shoulders. Its hooves were thick and powerful, its body so muscular it looked as though it were carved from granite, and in its hands, it carried a thick, wide blade and a razor-edged circular shield, with a quiver stuffed with arrows and a bow slung over its shoulder.

Yellow, murderous eyes took in the scene before him, Gerudo against Yiga, and before Kafei or Buliara could react to the monster’s sudden appearance, it threw its head back and let out a roar so loud that it seemed to liquify the bones in Kafei’s body.

With a heavy grunt, it threw itself down into the clearing, thick hooves clip-clopping on the stone ground as it cantered forward. The Gerudo warriors, caught off-guard, turned towards it, trying to rally. The Yiga broke rank and fled in the face of this powerful, third party. They let them go, apparently not even seeing them.

Kafei hadn’t even realized he’d fallen to the ground until Buliara’s hand was shoved into his face.

“On your feet!” she barked, her eyes glued to the monster, her voice harsh and, startlingly, scared. “Hurry, little _voe!_ I must aid my sisters! Flee this place at once!”

Down below, the centaur creature seemed to be trotting in a wide circle, herding the women into a single place. Backs to one another, they kept their spears out, but they were so small compared to this monster that they looked like children.

“What…” Kafei gasped, accepting her hand and rising to his feet. “What is it?”

“A Lynel,” Buliara grunted, taking Kafei’s broken knife out of her belt and handing it back to him. “The fiercest of the Calamity’s servants. It is many times stronger and smarter than your average monster. It will take all of us to bring this beast to heel. You must leave, now.”

“But…” he began, trying to find a way to say that he didn’t want to leave them without sounding absurd; he was in the body of a child. He and Midna beat their previous monster through a combination of dumb-luck and last-minute magic, but that hadn’t been a contest of strength. Midna wasn’t here to save him now, and all he had was a broken sword.

His eyes landed on the cage in the distance and the little boy trapped within.

His test… that’s right. This was what he was here for. To save the boy. He couldn’t run away now, not even in the face of that.

Buliara had already stepped forward, forgetting Kafei, spear in hands as she made to join her fellow warriors, when Kafei brushed past her.

“Little _voe_!” Buliara shouted, but Kafei didn’t give her time to protest.

“You handle the monster!” he shot back over his shoulder, trying for a charming grin. “I’ll save the boy!”

That, at least, was something he could do. His knife may not be much help against a monster that size, but he should still be able to cut through the ropes that held the wooden boards of the boy’s makeshift prison. If he worked fast enough, he might be able to get the boy out quickly, and together, the seven of them could escape.

Buliara shouted something after him, but he couldn’t hear her. The others were shouting, the monster was bellowing, and his heart was pounding in his ears. He could do this… He could do this!

When he arrived at the boy’s cell, the kid was practically hysterical.

“Hey!” Kafei blurted out, breathless and borderline hysterical himself. “Hey, it’s ok! Everything’s going to be ok! We’re here to help! My name is Kafei; what’s yours?”

The boy, who, now that he got a better look at him, couldn’t have been more than four years old, gazed up at Kafei through tear-filled eyes that were equal parts terrified and baffled and let out a confused, hiccupy "T… Tael."

“Well, don’t you worry about a thing, Tael,” Kafei responded, flashing the smaller boy his most dazzling, confident smile as he began sawing frantically at the ropes with his broken sword. “I’ll get you out of here in a jiffy.”

He wished he’d felt even half as assured as he sounded.

Behind him, the battle with the massive centaur monster (Lynel, she had called it?) was going poorly. Every few seconds of frantic sawing, he’d turn his head and cast a brief glance out at the chaos and feel the panic begin to overtake him anew.

The monster was simply too big. Though the five women were all fierce and competent and were giving their absolute all to bring the beast to heel, it was like watching preschoolers with sticks try to bring down a grizzly bear.

They charged forward and were driven back by wild swings from his heavy cleaver. Tried to surround him and nearly had their skulls shattered as he bucked with boulder-crushing hooves. And there was no hope of falling back to regroup; attempts to buy time for Kafei to free Tael notwithstanding, the fact that this monster was part horse meant that it was insanely mobile for a creature of its girth.

They wouldn’t last long. The monster had caught them by surprise, and with their added goal of keeping the children safe, even if the fight had been on equal terms, they’d still have the disadvantage. As it was, they were doing everything they could to simply stay alive, but one slip up, one mistake, would be the end.

Muava charged in from the side and was back-handed by its razor-edged shield so powerfully that she was literally thrown several feet backward. Leena leaped in front of her fallen ally to protect her while she got back to her feet and her attempt at blocking the monster’s powerful downward slash resulted in her spear being cleaved cleanly in two. Then Buliara was there, pulling Muava to her feet, and the three women scattered as the Lynel let out another roar of challenge and triumph.

Kafei’s arm was beginning to ache. He was sawing with all of his might, but the edge of his broken blade was dull and his child’s body lacked strength. Cutting through this one rope could take ages, and there were several that were keeping the planks of Tael’s wooden cage in place. Maybe… Maybe if he switched places with one of the other women, who were stronger and had sharper weapons… Maybe then they’d have a chance.

Almost as though someone was reading his mind, the situation took a sudden, drastic change for the worse.

The Gerudo warriors had fallen back, clearing up space around the Lynel as they considered their next course of action, and the monster, suddenly sheathing its heavy blade, drew a massive bow from out of the quiver that he’d strung across his back.

With a feral grin that belied a level of intelligence not seen in any of the normal monsters he’d come up against thus far, the creature nocked an arrow, drew the fletching back, and aimed his bow… directly at Kafei.

Buliara let out a shout, though her words were lost to him; he wanted to move, but his legs had gone numb. It was like he was staring down the barrel of a gun again, like he was once more trapped in last year’s shooting. His life held in the hands of the monster standing before him, and he too scared to move.

Before Kafei could react, before he even had time to consider his actions, a voice screamed “Little _voe_!” and a red-and-brown blur threw itself seemingly out of nowhere.

With a sudden spark of understanding, Kafei threw his arms up to protect himself. If she pushed him out of the way, the arrow could hit Tael!

But that isn’t what happened. As the Lynel loosed his arrow, sixteen-year-old Kalani came to rest directly in front of him, arms held wide as if she could somehow shield the blow.

The arrow took her through the stomach.

Her body twisted with the force of the impact, knocking her backward. She landed face-first on the ice-cold stone, the bloodied arrow point sticking straight up into the air out of her back. Her limbs trembled and spasmed, but she didn’t make a sound.

Kafei felt his vision begin to tunnel. All thoughts of this world being fake, of everything, even the people, being fictitious creations of the Mask’s magic meant merely to mess with him, fled from his mind. Kalani was hurt. Kalani was dying. Dying for him. For him and Tael, to keep them safe.

She was only sixteen! Three years younger than him, despite what his outward appearance suggested! He should be the one on the ground, not her!

The Lynel’s dark, savage laughter reached out from across their makeshift arena. Something stark and raw was bubbling in Kafei’s gut.

Suddenly, Muava was there, falling to her knees, scooping Kalani’s unmoving body into her boney yet surprisingly sturdy arms.

“Flee this place, little _voe_ ,” she grunted, casting a wary eye back at the monster who was being pressed by Leena and Teake, the two of them charging recklessly from the front to prevent the monster from using his bow again.

“What?!” Kafei blurted out, alarmed. Leave? She wanted him to abandon them?! But what about Tael? What about Kalani?!

“This is no place for a _vehvi_ ,” Muava reprimanded in a grandmotherly tone. “Go now, while we have its attention. Follow the canyon wall westward until you reach the Bazaar. There, tell our sisters of what has happened – they will send more warriors in greater numbers to save the imprisoned one. But for that, you must live. Live, and find help.”

Across the way, Teake was on the ground, and Leena, now weaponless, tried to grapple with the beast only to be lifted off the ground and thrown through the air, frisbee-style.  Buliara was shouting something that sounded like an order to retreat, though whether she was yelling at him and Muava or at everyone, he didn’t know. She wasn’t retreating, however; she'd lost her spear somehow, but scimitar in hand, she was holding the beast’s attention alone.

“N-no!” Tael cried, throwing himself forward and sticking his hands through the wooden slats to grab at Kafei’s clothing. “Don’t! Don’t leave me!”

Anxiety, panic, and fear were bubbling up in Kafei’s throat like vomit. This… This situation, fantastical as it may seem on the surface, felt eerily similar to him. This was exactly like the shooting last year.

The Lynel was Sakon, his pistol drawn, eyes alive with murder and hate. Kalani was Anju, bleeding out after taking the hit that had been meant for him. Muava was Zelda, holding her dying friend in her arms, and Tael was Aryll and Saria and every other person in the class who Kafei had abandoned to their fate when he’d let his hate consume him, leading him to chase after Sakon. He’d left them. And sure, maybe he hadn’t done it to save himself, but he’d still left them. Were it not for Sheik and Link’s timely intervention, he would have left them for dead. And now it was happening again, only he didn’t have Link or Sheik to make up for his mistake.

Tael’s hands were shaking. Muava’s elderly eyes filled with concern. Kalani’s breathing was shallow enough to be basically nonexistent, and Buliara’s shoulders seemed impossibly broad as she tried to stand alone against what seemed to him to be the very physical incarnation of death.

…Not again.

It didn’t matter that he was in the body of a child. It didn’t matter that they were facing a creature several times his size who could probably snap him in two with his pinky. And it didn’t matter that, at the end of the day, it was possible none of these women were real. He didn’t know how the Masked Boy’s magic worked, but it didn’t matter. Their kindness had been real. Their sacrifice was real. And he wasn't about to spit on that.

Maybe it was the more logical decision to run and get help. Maybe that way did lead to the best chance of him and Tael getting out of here alive. But to do so would be to abandon these warriors to their fate, and if that was what was logical, then he wanted no part of it. He didn’t care if it was naïve or idealistic – he didn’t just want to save Tael and himself, he wanted to save everyone.

Resolution burning inside of him, Kafei rose to his feet, and the glass orb in Tael’s cage exploded into a fierce orange light.

Muava gave out a cry of shock, turning her face to shield her eyes, but Kafei didn’t spare her another glance.

“Don’t worry, Tael,” he said instead, taking one of the boy’s proffered hands and placing the handle of his knife into it. “No one is going to be leaving you. Use this to keep cutting through the ropes; I need to go help our friends.”

“Little _voe!_ ” Muava shouted again, this time her voice thick with fear and alarm, but Kafei was already moving.

Turning from the cage, he set off at a dead sprint towards the Lynel.

There was a loud voice in Kafei’s head screaming that this was the dumbest thing he’d ever done. True, he’d chased down some monsters before, and had attacked that weird bedsheet ghost with the flaming hands back when he was with Midna, but somehow, that seemed less intimidating that this giant centaur did. Still, even louder than the fear of the Lynel and sense of self-preservation was the fear of the guilt of abandoning the others to their fate. He’d been there before. He never wanted to go there again.

There was a fire in his chest, a warmth that spread to the tips of his fingers. Like a beacon, like a rallying cry, he felt his hope and courage return. He had no way of knowing if he’d be able to change anything. Everything seemed to imply otherwise; he’d probably wind up a bloody smear on the floor.

But wasn’t that what hope was about?

Halfway to the Lynel, he stooped down to pick up half of Leena's broken spear (thankfully the half with the spearpoint) so that he could at least have something like a weapon. The action caught the monster's attention, however, and as though it knew this whole ordeal was actually Kafei’s trial all along, it turned away from the exhausted Buliara who it had pinned against the canyon wall and turned to sneer at Kafei instead.

He half expected the monster to draw its bow again, but it did not. Instead, it took a deep breath, and inside its gaping maw, Kafei saw what looked like the cherry-red glow of a furnace.

“No!” Buliara shouted, following the monster’s distracted gaze and finally noticing Kafei’s reckless advance, but it was too late.

Bending forward, the monster spat out a ball of flame, so hot the core was white, that came careening swiftly down on Kafei.

Throwing all his strength into his legs, Kafei secured his hold on the spear and jumped.

His magical cape caught the wind, just as he’d hoped, fanning outward like a kite and carrying him up, up into the air, over the ball of flame. The look of astonishment on Buliara’s face was only half as comical as the one on the Lynel’s, but before anyone could react, Kafei’s small, lithe, airborne body collided with the Lynel’s humanoid chest and, with the full force of his body weight behind him, Kafei drove Leena’s spearpoint into its ribs.

For a wild moment, Kafei thought he’d done it – after all, what could survive a spear to the chest?

Apparently, a Lynel could; it let out a furious howl of pain and rage, thrashing about spastically for a moment, but as Kafei was thrown free, crashing heavily to the stone floor, painfully scuffing his bare knees, the monster did not disappear into the familiar puff of acrid smoke that Kafei was waiting for.

Instead, it grasped the spear by its broken shaft and ripped it free of its body. Red blood dripped down its chest, looking purple against its blue fur, and with a savage snarl, it threw the spear away.

Kafei could only gaze up at the monster in fear and disbelief. He’s stabbed it in the chest! He must have nicked its lungs or its heart or something! There was no way!

His eyes dipped down to its horsey hindquarters and he grimaced. Actually, with a body that size, and with half of it being a horse's body… it might have had extra hearts or lungs in there somewhere. Plus, this was a monster. Normal rules clearly didn't apply. 

The monster glowered down at Kafei, eyes glowing with rage and hate, and, scuffing the stone with one of his front hooves, the Lynel held his sword and shield out to either side, arms wide like he wanted to give him a hug, as he suddenly broke into a run, ready to stampede right over him.

Out of the corner of his eye, Kafei could see that Muava hadn’t yet managed to carry Kalani to safety. They still needed more time. He couldn’t spare a glance for Leena or Teake. He would need to continue distracting the monster for as long as he could, only now, he was weaponless.

He thought of Zelda last year, defenseless, weaponless, tackling Vaati so that the others might carry Anju to safety, with no thought for herself, and he moved.   
  
As the Lynel reached him, it brought its arms together, sword and sharp-edged shield uniting in a pincer-like motion as if to cleave him in two. But Kafei was no longer on the ground; scrambling to his feet, he launched himself directly at the Lynel.

He collided with the Lynel’s human-torso and clung there for a moment like a spider monkey. He didn’t really have a plan, just making split-second, instinctual reactions as he went and praying he didn’t die, but as his fingers scrambled for purchase on the monster’s thick white mane, before it could react to what was essentially a young child giving it a hug, Kafei hastily began climbing up the monster’s hair.

The Lynel roared in anger and annoyance, but before he could pull him off or stab him, Kafei managed to scale his head like a weird jungle gym, nearly goring himself accidentally on his horn, before flipping over and landing on the creature’s back, straddling its haunches like it was really a horse.

Panicking and agitated, the Lynel tried to grab at him with his arms, but his body was too large and Kafei, trapped as a child, was too small. The edge of his massive sword scratched at him, almost cutting him, but Kafei was able to hunker down against his quiver to shield himself – the quiver!

Reaching up, Kafei seized a fistful of arrows and drew them out, stabbing them quickly into the monster’s back. Its skin was astonishingly tough and Kafei’s arms too weak, so he wasn’t able to do more than scratch and leave tiny cuts, but it was enough to agitate it even further. After a few seconds of fruitless swipes meant to snatch at Kafei and tear him from his back, the Lynel eventually wizened up and instead, seized hold of its quiver. With a ferocious tug, it tore the quiver off its back, tearing through the leather strap, and tossed it aside, sending arrows spilling across the battlefield. 

Now weaponless, Kafei could do nothing but hold onto the Lynel’s mane for dear life as it bucked around, furiously trying to shake the boy from his perch. For a wild moment, he felt like a cowboy at a rodeo.

He thought he could hear the sound of the Gerudo’s voices, but he didn’t have time to try and understand what they might be saying. His brain was rattling from being jerked up and down by the Lynel, and he had to keep his jaw clenched tightly shut to avoid biting through his tongue.

In the chaos, he felt his cape whipping around, occasionally slapping at his face, and inspiration struck him.

During one particularly wild buck, he was flung forward against the monster's human back, and he seized his chance. Wrapping his arms around its neck, he drew part of his cape forward, wrapping it around and drawing it back with the other hand. Leaning back before the Lynel could grab at him again, he seized the cape both hands, placed his bare feet against the monster’s back, and tugged.

The Lynel let out a choking sound as its airway was constricted. Sure, it may have more than one set of lungs, but it only had one esophagus. If he could crush it, it would suffocate, and then…

Only, it wasn’t working. Well, not as well as he had hoped. For one thing, the Lynel’s thick mane was in the way, cushioning its throat. For another, Kafei’s body lacked the strength he needed to actually strangle the monster. Still, at the very least, he was restricting its airway; he could tell by the way it was breathing, the rasping sound coming out of its mouth.

This wasn’t going to work, however. He needed a new plan. Another weapon, maybe, or perhaps-

Suddenly, Teake was there. Taking advantage of the monster’s distraction, eyes burning murderously over her veil, she drove her spear directly into the creature’s flank, eliciting a gurgled cry of pain from its mouth.

Before she could step back, he caught her across the temple with the face of his shield, knocking her to the ground, and, with a bestial roar, it rose up onto its hind legs, nearly dislodging Kafei as it brought its massive hooves down on Teake’s skull.

Or tried to; Leena was suddenly there, a new spear in hand (possibly Kalani or Muava’s), and with a roar of her own, she sent the spearhead tearing through the back of the monster’s knee.

The Lynel buckled, suddenly unable to support itself, and with a tortured wail it collapsed forward, missing Teake’s body by inches.

Rasping for breath, crippled and limping from Leena’s jab and bleeding profusely from Kafei and Teake’s stab wounds, the Lynel stumbled forward drunkenly, clawing at its neck, when Buliara appeared before it once more.

It snarled down at her, or tried to, lashing out with its sword, but its blows had weakened considerably.

Buliara caught the blow with her shield and deflected it, opening up the monster’s guard, and with an almost disdainful motion, drove the tip of her blade into the part of the monster’s body where the human torso met the horse.

The Lynel spasmed, dropping its sword. Slowly, with a throaty rasp, its front legs sagged forward, and Kafei thought Buliara was doomed to be crushed beneath the monster’s weight.

Then, with a puff of smoke, it vanished. Kafei’s body fell four feet onto the cold, rocky floor, and the wind was driven from his lungs.

He laid still for several moments, gasping for breath, every muscle in his body aching from the effort of riding the bucking Lynel, the myriad of cuts and scratches he’d received stinging sharply in the cold air. Still, on the inside, he was celebrating. The monster was dead… no one else had to die…

After what felt like an eternity, Buliara’s face appeared above his own, a concerned expression on her normally stern and stoic face.

“Are you alive, little _voe_?” she asked, and Kafei tried to smile, though it came out more like a grimace.

“Oh, don’t… Don’t worry about me. I’ve never been better.”

She shook her head and offered him a hand, pulling him to his feet.

“You,” she began as he surveyed the area, mentally counting the others to make sure they were alright, “are a fool. Muava told you to flee. Do you truly value your life so little?”

“Oh, I value my life a great deal,” he replied. “But it turns out, I value your lives pretty highly, too.”

He could see Leena off to the side, using her knife to cut through the rest of the ropes keeping Tael imprisoned. Teake was with Muava, and they had removed the arrow from Kalani’s midsection. They were wrapping some sort of cloth around her stomach; was she ok? Was there a chance she’d make it?

He asked Buliara as much, and she frowned, the worry heavy on her face.

“I cannot say. If we can get her quickly to the Bazaar, there may yet be hope, but I am no doctor. She is young, however, and her body and spirit are strong. Perhaps the gods will look kindly upon her.”

Perhaps… Well, he wasn’t magical like Midna. Perhaps was likely the best they were going to do.

After a few minutes, Leena and the others returned, leaving Kalani, now properly bandaged, near the cage where she’d fallen. The boy they’d worked so hard to save was with them, his eyes wide with fear and confusion, his cheeks pudgy, his clothing dirty and in disarray. In his arms, he carried the glass sphere he’d had before, the orange light within still shining brilliantly.

The women kept their gazes averted. Not because it was too bright, but seemingly because it made them uncomfortable somehow. Wasn’t this the relic they had come to reclaim?

Everyone was silent for a moment while Buliara stared at the sphere, her expression unreadable.

Finally, she spoke.  
  
“It glowed when Kalani took the arrow?”

“No,” Muava said softly. “It glowed when the _voe_ decided to help you.”

Everyone was staring at Kafei now, looks of disbelief in their eyes. Well, all except for Tael, who just looked confused and bored.

“To think,” Buliara began, her voice so soft it might have been a whisper, “Lady Nabooru would come to our aid once again.”

And suddenly, she was down on one knee, spear flat on the ground, bowing before him.

One of the others gasped, but Buliara kept her head low.

“Little _voe_ … Inheritor of Lady Nabooru’s will… You have my eternal gratitude.”

Kafei swallowed uncomfortably. Inheritor of…? Was she saying…? Did that orb mean…?

“But…! He is a _voe_ -!” Teake began, looking offended, but Muava cut her off with a sharp glare.

“Do not question the will of the Goddesses!” she barked sternly. “A Sage is a Sage! One need not be a _vai_ or even a Gerudo to inherit Nabooru’s will!”

Leena had joined Buliara on her knees, and Muava stooped down to join her. A moment later, still looking uncomfortable, Teake did as well. Tael was staring at them askance. Behind, Kalani remained motionless on the floor.

Sage or no, there wasn’t time for this.

“Buliara,” he said, extending a hand down to her as she had for him. “Come on. Get up. You don’t owe me anything. We fought that thing off together.”

She turned her face up to meet his gaze, her golden eyes flashing warmly in the cold air, and accepted his hand.

At all once, his vision went white.

Buliara was gone, as were the other warriors, the injured Kalani, and even Tael.

He was alone in a blank field of white… save for a boy in a white shirt and pants, wearing the Couple’s Mask of Termina, who was holding his outstretched hand. The same one who had visited him just before he’d been sent to this world.

“Your true face…” the masked boy began softly, and Kafei jerked back in shock. “What kind of… face is it? I wonder… the face under the mask… is that… your true face?”

Blinking rapidly, Kafei struggled to respond, his throat dry and stuck together, “I… what? But I’m not wearing…”

The light grew, engulfing him, and in a moment he was back in the museum.

Movement behind him suddenly caught Kafei’s attention, and he whirled around half expecting to find a monster or some such about to kill him. Instead, he came face to face with the Great Fairy statue and there, standing on the edge of the fountain, was Tael.

When the child’s eyes landed on Kafei his entire face lit up like a firework and he all but threw himself off the edge of the fountain, landing unsteadily on the ceramic floor tiles and nearly losing his balance before swiftly composing himself, jogging hurriedly towards Kafei, arms wide open and an ecstatic grin on his wide face.

“Yeah! You did it! You saved me!” he cried, launching himself at the older boy’s midsection a bit harder than he was expecting, driving the air from his lungs.

“Whoa there!” Kafei coughed, patting the kid nervously on the back, a little unsure how to react. “I, uh… Yeah, ok. Um… How are you feeling?”

“I’m great!” the boy replied eagerly, drawing back and beaming up at Kafei, bouncing up and down on his toes. There was something charming and innocent about the kid that was easing Kafei’s tension; somehow, instinctively perhaps, he knew that this child wasn’t going to turn into a crazy monster like the last lost little kid he’d rescued.

“Great, huh?” Kafei replied, suddenly bemused; there was something adorably silly about him, from his pudgy cheeks to his inquisitive eyes to the naïve excitement plastered across his face. "Well, what are you doing here in the middle of the night, Tael? Shouldn’t you be at home with your parents?"

“I don’t have any parents,” the boy replied in a rehearsed sort of way that twisted painfully in Kafei’s gut. He took a careful step back and beamed up at his rescuer. “I live at an orf… at an orf-fridge! I was outside playing after bedtime, but then…” He paused, a look of consternation flashing across his face. “Uh… I dunno. But you saved me! You fought that horse guy!”

Tael was still rambling on animatedly, seemingly used to talking at lengths without interruption, but Kafei had stopped paying the child any mind. The other reality had faded away, but… what of the others? Would Buliara be able to get Kalani the help she needed before it was too late? Were either of them even real to begin with?

Something on his neck itched, and he scratched at it absently.

Tael, who had been rambling on and on about Kafei’s apparently heroic battle against the Lynel, immediately stopped talking and zeroed in on the movement of Kafei’s fingers on his neck.

“Um… I think you got something on you,” he offered up in an awkward, polite tone.

Kafei flashed the boy a tight-lipped, impatient smile that was supposed to appear grateful as he pulled his fingers away from his neck and examined them. Tael was right; there was some sort of crumbly pale substance flaking off of his neck, but… he hadn’t a clue as to what it was.

He scratched some more at his neck, feeling even more of the odd powdery substance begin flaking away until the tips of his fingers brushed against something hard and plastic-y, something that felt almost like a crease right at the part where his jaw met his neck, just below his ear.

Something like horror and revulsions churned inside his gut, and he palpated the foreign substance with frantic urgency. Oh Goddesses, what… what was on his face?! Oh, gross! Whatever it was, he needed to get it off _now._

He followed the crease with his fingernail, more gunk flaking off, down under his chin, up around his jaw to his other ear. He tugged on it experimentally and was relieved to find it not only came loose with little prompting, but it also didn't hurt at all. Whatever it was, it was firm yet flexible, like plastic, only it peeled wetly off his flesh like dead skin after a sunburn. He pulled harder and more peeled off, his skin beneath the foreign entity hot and sweaty but not pained in the slightest.

Tael’s face was a mask of pure horror, and while Kafei didn’t want to frighten the kid, the only thought going through his head at the moment was getting whatever this was on his face off as soon as humanly possible.

The plastic substance had now come loose almost entirely around his jaw, and he seized it in both hands and tugged. It peeled with painstaking slowness off of his chin, and he pulled. It peeled off of his mouth and nose, and he pulled harder. It tore free of his eyes and cheeks, and with a roar of fear and disgust, Kafei ripped the foreign object off of his face entirely.

When he opened his eyes, breathing heavily, he was cradling the object in his hands. Even upside-down, he could tell what it was at just one glance. It was a mask.

“Whoa…” Tael breathed, looking half-horrified, half-wondrous. Blinking in confusion, Kafei glanced up at the boy, then glanced back down at the mask in his hands.

It took him a moment to notice the way that the mask was dwarfed in his palms. Shock washed over him, followed by joy and disbelief together, and Kafei clambered unsteadily to his feet, rising to his full height, towering over Tael by a good three feet.

He was back, back in his regular body. Back in his regular clothes- no more smelly smock or short-shorts or bare feet! Hello, tennis shoes and pink polo and khaki pants! His cape was still draped over his shoulders, apparently magically altering itself to fit his new body size. He was back… he was really back…

Without even bothering to look at it, Kafei dropped the mask on the ground and let out a whoop of pure ecstasy, leaning down and scooping Tael into his arms, twirling the boy around and around as he continued to shout and laugh and generally cause a scene. When he finally put him down, Tael stumbled drunkenly for a moment, trying to regain his balance in futility before he toppled comically to the floor, his eyes rolling in his head with a sickened groan. Kafei joined him a moment later, tears of joy stinging in his eyes. Oh Goddesses, yes… he was back… he was free…

Movement at his side caught his attention, and he turned, breathless, to see Tael gingerly scooping up the mask that Kafei had dropped to the floor. Turning it over in his hands, Kafei was given his first glimpse of the mask’s face and felt dull surprise wash over him.

“Hey!” Tael exclaimed loudly, glancing up at Kafei. “It looks like you!”

And it was. The thing that had been stuck to Kafei’s face before he’d been returned to his own body… it was a mask. His mask. A mask of his own face.

“Why were you wearing your own mask?” the boy continued, phrasing it as though it were the most illogical thing he could fathom. “Were you hiding? Were you pretending to be you?”

Kafei’s jaw worked, but no sound came out. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he managed to stutter out a quiet, “Y-yeah… I think… maybe I was…”

As he stared at the mask, a million questions began popping into his head; of how, of why, of what it all meant, but he forcefully shoved them into the back of his mind to stew over them later. There would be time to consider all that he had been through and the meaning of the mask that he wore later, once all of this was over. For now, he had a little boy to look after and some friends to save.

“Hey Tael,” Kafei began, pushing himself back to his feet and throwing on a confidant tone, hoping to change the subject from the mask that the boy still held in his hands, “what do you say we get out of here and go find my friends? Then we can get out of here and go get some sleep, huh?”

“Ok!” Tael exclaimed brightly, immediately dropping Kafei’s mask on to the floor where it lay, forgotten. “Oh, but- wait! I want to give you something!”

Kafei frowned. “Give me something?”

“Yeah! Like… uh… Mr. Charlo says we should always thank people who help us.”

That last sentence was once again said with the air of something that had been repeated several times.

Kafei chuckled in bemusement. “Ok, well… You don’t have to give me anything, Tael. Let’s just get out of here and-“

“Aw!” the boy wailed, screwing up his pudgy face into a look of pronounced disappointment. “But… But I wanted… I was gonna…”

Tears were starting to well up in his eyes. Panicking, and not exactly knowing how to deal with little children (it’s not like he had brothers and sisters of his own), Kafei dropped to one knee (haha, he was tall again!) and hastily began trying to soothe the boy, awkwardly patting him on the shoulder.

“Whoa! Hold on, bud! It’s ok, you don’t need to cry! I’ll… ok look, I changed my mind. Whatever it is, you can give it to me, ok?”

“R… Really?” Tael sniffled pathetically, gazing dolefully up into Kafei’s eyes.

“Really.”

“Yay!” Tael cried, suddenly all smiles once again, and he hastily scrambled off to the side, rummaging around on the floor and returning with something grasped in his hand.

“Here,” he exclaimed breathlessly, poorly-contained excitement bubbling out him, “look!”

“Oh look at that!” Kafei exclaimed in mock-enthusiasm, holding out his hand to accept his misplaced broken knife from the smaller boy. “For me? You shouldn’t have!”

Well, at least he knew where it was now. It might be mostly useless, but he had used it to fight off several enemies, from flying lizards to bed sheet demons to killer plants. At the very least, it was better than nothing. Certainly better than wandering the museum with Tael unarmed.

“What? No, this isn’t my present,” Tael balked, frowning heavily.

“Oh. Of course not.”

“No. Come here.” Seizing Kafei’s hands in his own smaller, pudgier ones, Tael dragged the older boy to the Great Fairy Fountain and leaned over to peer into the gently rippling water.

“So listen,” Tael began, once again sounding animated. “I heard once that there are magical fountains in the world where fairies live. They say if a person with a good heart throws in something important, that they’ll get a blessing from the Great Fairy!”

“Ok…?” Kafei replied, not quite catching on.

“So go on!” Tael insisted, giving Kafei an imploring look. “You’re a hero! Throw in your sword and let’s see if the Great Fairy will appear!”

Kafei sighed. He wanted to sit Tael down and tell him that even though they learned this night that magic was real and the old legends were true, that didn’t mean that everything in the world was magical. This fountain right in front of them was certainly not magical; it had been built by regular people, probably carved in a factory somewhere. It was full of coins and a couple old pieces of gum. The only thing that tossing his knife in was going to accomplish was getting it wet. He hated to tell the boy no, but throwing it in was only going to allow him to get his hopes up for nothing…

Still, it might ultimately be quicker. Trying to convince him to see the logical side of things might take forever, and forever was something they certainly did not have. Stopping himself from rolling his eyes, Kafei stood up straight, held out the knife in his free hand, exchanged glances with an over-eager Tael, and dropped the knife into the fountain.

It entered the water with a soft ‘plop!’ and sank to the bottom with a clunk.

"Well, that's too bad," Kafei said bracingly, leaning over to pluck his weapon back out. "I guess this fountain isn't-"

A brilliant light exploded over the fountain and Kafei fell back with a startled yelp.

From his place on the floor, Kafei watched in both horror and amazement as the water in the fountain began to shine with an ethereal glow, light dancing on the ceiling and walls of the atrium as though they were within a magical planetarium, illuminating the large, empty room with a veritable rainbow of colors. It was like nothing Kafei had ever seen.

Even more stunning, however, was the statue of the Great Fairy. The colors and lights dancing off her stone façade made it seem for a moment as if she were alive, her hands spread in thanks to Kafei for saving the child who stood before her, his head cocked back in wonder, childish eyes reflecting the phenomenon of the sparkling lights before him.

Something rose out of the fountain then, glowing brighter than all of the other lights combined, and as the magic light show came to an end and the fountain returned to normal, it remained in place, floating calmly in the air between the outstretched arms of the Great Fairy. A massive, gilded sword.

The blade was the longest Kafei had ever seen. Stretching something like four feet from pommel to tip, the hilt was wrapped in bright green padding that looked like vibrant vines, forming into an artistic cross-guard that vaguely resembled two fleurs-de-lis stacked one atop the other. The blade widened after that, forming an odd, almost oblong shape before tapering into the traditional sword point. Perhaps strangest of all, the blade of the weapon was rose-colored, and to complete the flower theme, the center of the blade had been engraved in dark green, depicting a single black rose whose stem extended down into a swath of thorny vines only to end in yet another thorny black rose near the tip. All in all, it was like nothing Kafei had ever seen.

Tael broke the almost reverent silence by clambering hastily up onto the fountain ledge and gesturing up at the sword, beaming energetically at Kafei, practically beside himself with excitement.

“Look! Look! See, I told you! I told you there was a Great Fairy here! See what she did? See? She turned your broken sword into a new one!”

Kafei blinked, then slowly rose to his feet. Stepping forward, he hesitantly gazed down into the once-again tranquil fountain waters. Sure enough, his broken knife was gone.

Goddesses above… Tael was right! His broken knife had been transformed into this… into this…

“Well?! What do you think?!” Tael practically shouted, showcasing his ‘outside voice’ with great aplomb. “Isn’t it awesome?!”

Kafei looked from the boy to the blade for a moment, to the boy and back to the blade.

Finally, he managed to get out a weak, "…It's pink."

Tael stared at the blade as though he were seeing it for the first time, then looked back at Kafei with an unreadable look in his eye.

“So is your shirt. And your hair is purple.”

Kafei thought about that.

“Alright, fair.”

“Go on, take it!” Tael urged emphatically.

Feeling suddenly put on the spot, Kafei slowly complied. Honestly, the blade was awe-inspiring, but… well, it looked too ceremonial to use. It shined with such splendor, contained such defined carvings, the pink and green colors were so vibrant, that the weapon was more a work of art than a tool of death. Still, if the Great Fairy had seen fit to bestow it upon him, he figured it’d be the height of dishonor not to accept. That, and he did need a weapon after all… even if this one looked like it was way too heavy to actually use-

His hand closed around the hilt, the weight of the weapon fell into his grip, and, overbalanced, he nearly pitched forward into the fountain. Securing a second hand on the long handle, Kafei hastily righted himself and held the weapon out before him. Sweet Farore, this was heavier than he had expected…! In a drawn-out fight it would probably exhaust him to use, but then… with a weapon this large, he probably wouldn’t need more than a few good whacks to end the fight against all but the most resilient monsters. Resting the tip on the ground, he tested the edge of the blade on his thumb and hastily retracted his digit at the sight of blood. Light, it was sharp too… The rose was the perfect symbol for this weapon to have. Beautiful and dangerous… He may look silly wielding a big pink sword, but his foes wouldn’t have time to see the error of their ways after he’d cleaved them in two.

Glancing down at Tael, who was still gazing up at Kafei with earnest expecting in his eyes, he offered the kid a genuine grin and a fond pat on the head.

“Thanks, Tael. This sword is awesome.”

The boy flushed and grinned, accepting Kafei’s hand as he helped him off of the fountain.

“Now come on, let’s go find my friends and get out of here, ok?”

“Ok!” he agreed cheerily, trotting along at the older boy’s side.

“And maybe a vending machine… I’m starving.”

Tael laughed and heartily agreed, and as the alien feeling of good-natured peace stole over him for a rare moment, he rested the blade on his shoulder and stuck his free hand into his pocket. He grinned, half-listening to Tael as he rambled on about one time when a boy had pushed him into a fountain and his big sister had beaten him up. The light outside the windows was bright, the shadows growing long. Before they knew it, it would be dark again. He’d rather not stay the night here again, and if he wanted to avoid that he needed to hurry and find his friends, but for the moment, as they walked, he enjoyed the sunlight streaming through the windows as it warmed his body. His real body. He was finally back.


	28. A Goddess

“We made it!” Navi declared in triumph, bouncing giddily up and down in her filthy, hand-me-down shoes.

With a grunt, Sheik shoved the last bit of foliage out of the way, and together he and Zelda tumbled out of the thick undergrowth they’d been traipsing through for the last several minutes and out into a spacious field. Zelda’s legs were burning and she’d developed an awfully painful stitch in her side from all the walking they’d been forced to do, but it would seem that they’d finally arrived at the end of their journey- before them stood what appeared the be the remains of a massive, ancient temple.

The outer stones were white and pitted with age; loose blue shingles made up the angular roof, and she could see what looked to be an old-fashioned belfry comprising the solitary tower that stood resolute over the entrance to the building. Cracked marble steps led up before them to the front door, wooden and decayed, and Navi had already climbed halfway up in her childlike eagerness to get there first.

“Navi, don’t run ahead!” Zelda called out in a strained, maternal voice for the umpteenth time that afternoon.

Sheik snorted, pausing for a minute to stretch his back. “I swear, that kid is going to drive me crazy one of these days.”

“Stop,” Zelda muttered, slapping absently at his arm as though reprimanding a dog. “She’s sweet and you know it. You’re just cranky because we’ve been walking around so much.”

“True that,” Sheik replied in earnest as the two set off towards the staircase where Navi was waiting impatiently, “but I’m allowed to be cranky if I want to be.”

“The only one allowed to be cranky here is me,” Zelda responded, shooting Sheik a playful look to which the taller boy responded with a long-suffering eye roll and a sarcastic, “Oh right, I forgot that I was in the presence of nobility. Heaven forbid a common peasant like me have the right to feel anything.”

“Exactly. You are my slave. Now, carry me up the stairs!”

She stopped and held her arms up like an expectant toddler, a radiant smile on her face.

Sheik scoffed and studiously kept his eyes averted.

“If I pick you up, I’ll carry you all the way to the top of the stairs just so I can drop you and laugh as you roll all the way back down.”

“Hey!” Zelda called out, hastening after her friend. “That’s no way to treat your princess, oh great Sage of Shadow!”

“Meh. Welcome to democracy, your highness.”

After Zelda’s previous visit with a past-self, Sheik had taken Zelda to a nearby river under the pretense of taking a break, and while Navi splashed around playfully in the water, Sheik had forced her to spill her guts about what was actually going on and what messages she’d been receiving by praying at the altars. Zelda had resisted at first, but found herself giving in relatively quickly; she supposed that deep down, she’d needed somebody she trusted to confide in, and really, who better than one of her best-friends-slash-Sheikah-bodyguard? In the end, she told Sheik everything.

He was amazed at first, naturally, but quickly broke it down in his classic Sheik cynicism. He didn’t understand any better than Zelda did why her past lives seemed to be telling her that she needed to make sacrifices and give up what she wanted, but unlike Zelda, he didn’t take this as a personal assault but rather as a cryptic warning about what was to come.

“Look, I just think it’s a little soon to be getting angry. We don’t even rightly know what’s going on, do we? I just think you should keep your annoyance level low until we actually know what the story is. For all we know, everything will make sense after you pray to this last altar.”

What he said made sense, but the irrational part of Zelda didn’t want to let go of her anger and frustration. She was exhausted, and part of her felt like her annoyance with the Goddesses and her past-selves was the only thing that was still keeping her going. That, and… well, truth be told, she was a little nervous about praying at this last altar. The previous two experiences hadn’t been exactly pleasant; one past princess had been cold and mean, and the other had been broken. Both had left her feeling like she didn’t know who she was, or what she was doing. Hopefully, this next one would be nicer… and give her answers she could actually use.

And speaking of answers… Sheik was right in saying that they still had no idea what was really going on here. They’d been trapped in the museum all night but all they knew was that someone named Ghirahim was messing with them and had apparently sicked Majora’s Mask on their friends in order to turn their night into a living nightmare. ‘Why’ was still up in the air, unfortunately. And to make matters worse, the one time she’d tried to probe for info from the boy in the mask, the answer she’d received had been a large, creepy puppet version of Ganondorf. She knew that he was probably still alive, somewhere, knew that to kill him Link would have to use the Master Sword, but could he be the one behind this? Was this all some elaborate trap on his part?

She was snapped out of her reverie by Sheik shoving open the large, ancient temple doors. The wood groaned, protesting its movement after so long being left unattended, but eventually gave way, and the trio hastened inside.

In spite of their present situation, Zelda took a moment to stare around in wonder. The temple was clearly in shambles, but it was still breathtaking in a ruins-y kind of way. Checkered black-and-white tiles made up the flooring, coated in a visible layer of dust and dirt as overhead, desiccated, cobweb-filled chandeliers hung from the spacious, arched ceiling.

Along the walls, broken windows let in pale beams of afternoon light that illuminated motes of dust and dirt that swirled in invisible eddies of air between large, statuesque pillars. There were no pews or benches or anything to be seen; rather, the main entryway was completely barren of any decoration save for a large, circular platform in the middle of the room and atop it, the object of their search, a rectangular altar set near the back in front of a large stone mural of the rising sun.

It took a second for Zelda to recognize where they were.

“Hey… Doesn’t this look like the Temple of Time to you?”

“Oh yeah…” Sheik replied, blinking in surprise. “Just like the photo from our textbook. Just, y’know… dirtier.”

“Can we go exploring?” Navi asked, her eyes sparkling with barely-suppressed excitement.

Zelda and Sheik exchanged looks.

“Uh, no, Navi. That sounds like a really not-safe idea.”

“Yeah, kid. Do you want to get eaten by monsters?”

Navi looked thoroughly put out.

Zelda felt her heart twinge at the child’s comical look of disappointment. She stepped forward and gave the girl’s abnormally light hair a consoling pat. “Don’t worry, Navi. I’m sure there’s still plenty of exploring left for us to do today.”

The little girl breathed a heavy sigh. “Yeah, ok… So come on, you have to go pray to the alter, right?”

“Oh, right…” The altar of Nayru. The last step on the quest her patron Goddess had sent her on. Anxiety began welling up inside of her as Navi seized her by the hand and began energetically dragging the older girl toward the altar.

“Careful, Navi,” Sheik called lazily from behind. “Princesses are dainty and need to be treated like porcelain.”

She shot him a murderous look, and he laughed.

Before long, Navi had Zelda positioned directly in front of the altar. Below it, on its stone face, she could see the symbol of Nayru lightly inscribed; three crescent moon set with their backs together in a triangle, and three circles within the crescents. The top of the altar contained three impressions, as though something was meant to be placed there, only she had no idea what that might be.

Sheik must have sensed her hesitation, because a moment later he placed his hand comfortingly on her shoulder and said, “It’s alright, Zelda. We’re here for you, no matter what they say.”

She flashed her friend a grateful smile, and with an encouraging nod, he took Navi by the hand and led her away to give Zelda some space and privacy.

It was time.

Kneeling down and taking a deep breath, Zelda steeled her nerves, positioned the harp in front of her, and strummed.

A brilliant blue light exploded outward from the altar, just as with her previous two excursions, and the marble below her hummed as though in harmony with the notes plucked from her harp. For a moment, Zelda was blind.

When the light cleared, she found herself standing on the ledge of a cliff overlooking a sea of clouds.

Zelda gasped and stepped back, her heart leaping dramatically into her throat as a gust of wind swooped by from behind, nudging her forward and making her feel like she was going to topple off the edge and straight into oblivion.

Below, crisp green grass crunched under her shoes. The sky was a swath of vivid blue, the sun a yellow orb in the distance. She stared at her surroundings with no small amount of trepidation. Where was she? Why was she on some high cliff? Why wasn’t she lost in that expanse of endless fog like she normally was? Had she been taken to another part of the museum?

Footsteps approached from behind, and Zelda whirled around, hand raised, ready to lash out with magic at the slightest sign of provocation.

Instead, she was met with the smiling, inquisitive face of a young girl.

She was Zelda’s age, with long yellow hair and wide, curious blue eyes set above a button nose and an eager, friendly smile. She was wearing a long, beautiful white dress that was otherwise plain and unadorned. Her sleeves were long, and the cuffs dangled just beyond her fingertips, nearly obscuring the dark navy bracelets she wore on her wrists. In spite of the overall cleanliness of her appearance, however, the girl’s feet were bare and dirty.

Clearly, this was another one of Zelda’s past lives, but there was something altogether different about this one.

She was… plain.

Not that she wasn’t lovely in her own right, but she had no fancy gems or bobbles that would immediately distinguish her for who she was, and unlike every other iteration of her past-selves, princess or pirate or what have you, this Zelda didn’t immediately exude an air of authority or regal calm. For all intents and purposes, she looked like a normal teenage girl.

Maybe that was why Zelda instantly felt her defenses lower. Unlike with the others, whom she was constantly comparing herself to and inevitably feeling inadequate, this Zelda looked like someone with whom she could finally relate. A normal teenage girl.

“Hello!” the girl spoke, her tone light and amiable as she nervously tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, a shy yet excitable smile on her face.

“Hi,” Zelda replied, trying to sound polite. “Um… I’m sorry, are you…?”

“You?” the girl supplied, and Zelda nodded. “Yup! Well, more or less anyway. At least you know what’s going on. That’ll make explaining things easier.”

“Right, sure,” Zelda agreed, not really knowing what she as talking about. The girl had swung her hands behind her back and was rocking on her heels. No, she was definitely nothing like the others. “But I mean, are you… Are you a Princess?”

The look of incredulity that flashed across the girl’s face was almost comical.

“A… A princess? Goodness, no!” she giggled amicably, stepping closer to Zelda and the ledge. “Wow! What a question! No, I’m nothing fancy like that, I promise.”

And with total disregard for her lovely dress, the girl promptly flopped down on the grass at the edge of the cliff and let her bare feet dangle off the side, her toes wriggling in the open air.

“Oh,” Zelda replied, a little taken aback but feeling loads better now that her suspicions were confirmed. Maybe now that she knew she wasn’t dealing with someone who was raised to be a leader, she would be more capable of taking control of the conversation and not feel like she was out of her depth.

With a shrug, she found herself sitting down beside the other girl and kicking her feet off the edge as well. It was both terrifying and exhilarating being this close to the edge, with nothing but the open air beneath them. Under normal circumstances, she would have never dared come so close, but something about the girl at her side had her feeling bold.

“I have to be honest,” Zelda started, gazing out over the expanse of clouds below her and trying to find some way to bring up the reason for her being there without it being awkward, “it’s sort of nice to talk to a version of me who isn’t nobility. I guess, after the night I’ve been having, I was sort of starting to think I was the only one who wasn’t born and bred to be special, you know?”

The Zelda at her side made a silly face.

“I never understood why mortals talk like that. Like there are people in the world who are better or worse than them, or that they have to do something unique to make themselves stand apart from the others. It’s like they can’t see how special they already are. I mean, I guess I have no room to talk, and it must be hard, to have such a short lifespan and not a lot of time to do things in it, but- “

“I’m sorry, mortals?” Zelda cut in, confused.

The pretty blonde blinked, then laughed in an embarrassed sort of way.

“Oh, darn it. Sorry, I’m getting ahead of myself, aren’t I? Well, if we’re going to do this, then let’s do this right, huh? Zelda… Do you know why you’re here?”

Zelda licked her lips in uncertainty.

“Well… The Goddess Nayru sent me on a quest, to pray before three altars. She said if I did so, I would find out what I had to do to save my friends. I already prayed to the altars of Din and Farore, and I spoke to past versions of myself, and now I’m here at the last one. I guess you’re supposed to tell me how to save everyone?”

She intentionally left out the parts about her past lives trying to get her to give up. She was afraid of influencing this new Zelda in any way that might encourage her to do the same, silly as that might sound. She got the distinct impression that this other Zelda knew she was holding something back, but to her immense relief, she didn’t call her out on it.

“So you want to save the world…” the girl replied wistfully, staring off into the expanse of clouds below them. “Well, I can’t fault you there. I know the feeling. It’s such a beautiful world, isn’t it?”

Zelda turned her head to look where the other girl was staring and gasped as the clouds below them suddenly parted.

They were overlooking Hyrule. She wasn’t sure how she knew, but she did. Maybe it was the massive mountain on the horizon, or the beautiful crystal lake, or the river snaking through the hilly countryside, the dense, dark forest or the massive, sparkling desert in the distance. With a certainty that glowed in her heart, she knew that this was Hyrule, the land in which she had lived and loved in more lives and lifetimes than she could possibly remember.

“So beautiful…” the other Zelda continued, a note of longing in her voice, “and filled with such beautiful people…”

“I know,” Zelda replied softly, turning her attention back to the girl at her side. “So please… If you know, tell me how to help them. Tell me how to save Hyrule and my friends.”

The girl turned and sent her a shrewd look.

“Are you prepared to do what must be done to save the world and the people you love?”

“Yes, of course!”

“Really? Are you prepared to sacrifice anything and everything to do what needs to be done?”

“Absolutely! I am the Princess of Destiny; I will keep my people safe!”

“Even if that means giving up what you want most?”

There it was again, just like before! Something snapped inside of Zelda.

“Why do you all keep saying that?” she exploded, slamming her fists into the grass in rage. “Why do you all keep telling me I have to give up?! Why can’t I be the one to save my people?! Does no one believe I can do it? Will destiny not let me? How is that fair? How is that right? Stop giving me riddles and just answer me already!”

She was surprised to find her shoulders quaking from her unexpected tantrum, but she was even more surprised when the girl at her side leaned over to give her a one-armed hug.

“Oh, Zelda…” she murmured, her voice soft and comforting. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry… But you’re right, you deserve an explanation. An explanation, and so much more… and I’m going to give it to you. But first things first.”

She drew back and took Zelda’s hand in her own, an apologetic look on her face.

“You asked me earlier if I was a princess, and... Well, technically, I’m not. My name is Hylia. I’m a goddess.”

It took a moment for Hylia’s pronouncement to penetrate the thick wall of confusion and disbelief in Zelda’s mind, but when it finally registered, she felt her mouth drop as she sucked in a horrified breath and promptly dropped the other girl’s hand as if she’d been scalded.

Hastily scooting away, she ran her fingers through her hair in a panicked and distracted manner as though to make sure she looked presentable before such a higher being, shifting her gaze frenetically everywhere except for at the girl at her side.

Hylia chuckled in bemusement. “I’m not diseased, you know.”

Zelda flushed, her jaw working furiously, but she was having a hard time getting the words past her lips.

“I… I… I know, but…. B-but you are… I-I can’t-!”

“It’s alright,” the other girl butted in, reaching out to pat Zelda’s thigh consolingly, making her start so badly she practically leaped out of her skin. “You mortals have the weirdest notions about gods. I’m not going to zap you into oblivion if you displease me. I’m not ‘holy’. I don’t repel dirt.” She held her feet up so that her mud-and-grass covered toes danced over the open air. “I’m basically just like you… well, except that I’m immortal and much more powerful.”

She shrugged as if she’d implied that she was merely taller or had different colored skin.

A goddess… Zelda was sitting next to a goddess, having a normal chat…

And to think she thought she might have something in common with this girl.

“Wait,” she suddenly blurted out. “You said… You said you were me!”

“Yes?” Hylia replied, politely inquisitive.

“But you can’t be… I-I’m not a…”

She trailed off, looking horrified as the implication dawned on her.

“A goddess?” Hylia supplied once again, and Zelda felt the icy throes of panic steal over her heart.

She chuckled, a merry twinkle in her eye. “No, you’re not. Don’t worry.”

Part of the building panic began to ebb as relief washed over her. Not a goddess… Thank goodness… Being the Princess of Destiny was tough enough, she didn’t want to add any more responsibility on top of that. She had enough to worry about as it was.

“So then… how…?” Zelda began, not quite sure how to phrase what she wanted to ask.

“How am I still you? Well, there’s a bit of a story to that… though I suppose that’s really why you’re here. Well, you might want to get comfortable, ‘cause it’s gonna be a doozy: long ago, before there was a kingdom, before there was a Hero, or a King of Thieves, or a Princess, just after my sisters made this beautiful, amazing world we see before us… There was a goddess named Hylia.”

“I’ve never heard of a goddess named Hylia,” Zelda interjected, and then a moment later clamped her mouth shut, mortified at how insensitive that sounded.

Thankfully, Hylia didn’t seem insulted. She let out a wry snort and shook her head. “No, you probably haven’t. I wasn’t all that important, truth be told. No, I’m afraid mankind forgot about me pretty quickly… although at least they named a lake after me.”

She gestured down toward the brilliant pool of blue beneath them.

“…It’s a lovely lake,” Zelda offered after a moment.

Hylia sniggered in the least-godlike way Zelda could imagine.

“Haha…! It is a lovely lake, isn’t it? Hmm, I don’t think Faron was too pleased, but then she was always an old self-important stiff… She probably didn’t think I was important enough either. Not like my sisters; now _there_ are some goddesses. I mean, just look at this! Look at this world! All the beautiful things they made, the wonderful people they created! Ah… if I could have had one wish, it would have been to be like them… Oh, Zelda, my sisters are so wonderful and kind… I wish that you could meet them just so you could understand where I'm coming from…"

“Your sisters…?” Zelda asked, already feeling like she knew the answer but unable to believe that it could be possible.

“The Golden Trio. Din, Nayru, and Farore. Creators of the world.”

“The Golden Trio are your sisters?!” Zelda squawked incredulously.

Hylia shrugged.

“It’s not such a big deal. Most gods are related in one way or another; our ties aren’t inherently biological like mortals, but… Oops, I’m getting off-topic again. Anyway, my sisters: I’ve always looked up to them, wanted to be just like them… But gods, for all our power and might, don’t always have all the freedom we’d like mortals to think we do. We can’t change. We’re constants. It doesn’t matter that I was immortal, Zelda. No matter how long I lived or how hard I tried… I could never… never grow, never become like them. Even though I wanted it with all of my heart…”

Zelda felt a twinge of sadness for the miserable little goddess at her side. She could imagine how she felt; or at least, some of her past-lives could. To have everything but the one thing you really wanted… was agony.

“Thankfully, my sisters were always kind to me,” Hylia continued after a moment’s pause. “They knew how I loved this world they created, and so after they were done, after they’d left the Triforce behind for the mortals, they came to me and asked if I would stay here on this earth to watch over their creation.”

A radiant smile blossomed across Hylia’s face.

"Oh, Zelda… Do you know how that felt? To be trusted by my older sisters? To feel needed by them? It was like… like for one small moment, I had finally achieved my dream! I was one of them! For a moment, in a very small way, perhaps, but it was the closest I had ever come…

“Oh, and the world! I know I’ve said this about a dozen times already, but Zelda, I love this world! I love everything about it! The mountains and lakes and deserts and trees! The bugs and the fish and the animals, and the people- oh, the people! Mortals are so silly and endearingly sweet! You mess up so much, but you try so hard, and you can overcome your faults and your shortcoming through effort and patience…. Honestly, the mortals looked up to me because I was a goddess, but I don’t think they ever knew how jealous I truly was of them.

“I think my sisters maybe intended for me to keep aloof, y’know, let the mortals live out their lives and only step in when necessary and all that, but I spent as much time with them as I could. They thought I was being benevolent, but really, I was secretly hoping that they could rub off on me. That maybe I could learn to change like they could… so I could one day grow to be like my sisters…”

A shadow fell across her face.

“And then… well, everything went wrong. People think that gods are good, and I guess for the most part that’s true; there are a couple of outliers, but for the most part, gods work together, generally for the benefit of mortals and the worlds, but… For all the good that comes from gods, there must be a balance. For as long as I can remember, this has been so. It’s more order and chaos than right and wrong, but… well, we’re not here to discuss theological morality. The point is, if the gods are basically good, then it only makes sense that the demons are basically bad.”

“Demons?” Zelda asked. She knew of demons, but she hadn’t realized that they were on par with the gods.

Hylia read her mind again.

"There are many entities between mortals and gods. There are my elder sisters, the Golden Trio, at the top. I suppose I come in somewhere underneath them, and then below me, there are minor elemental gods- like Zephos or Cyclos. After that, there are spirits, the guardians of the land, then the sages, and then mortals.

“Demons… well, there is a hierarchy based on strength, but they don’t really organize themselves into anything other than demons and monsters. You’ve met a few yourself. Majora, for example- I’ve never liked her. She lives to make others miserable. Malladus was a pain as well. Oh, and Ghirahim… well, we’ll get to him in a moment. But there was one demon in particular, however, who screwed everything up for me… For everyone, really. He’s the reason why my sisters called you here, Zelda. He’s the reason they needed me to talk to you.”

Zelda’s head was spinning, so many ideas and names had just been thrown at her that she didn’t know how to digest it all. Hylia claimed she was a minor goddess of no importance, but she placed herself just below the Golden Trio? Ghirahim and Majora were demons so old that Hylia knew them? Just how complicated was this going to get?

“Who… Who is the demon you need to talk to me about?”

Hylia sighed sorrowfully. “He… His name is… well, actually I don’t think it quite translates into your language. I guess maybe Demise is the best I could come up with. We fought back when I was the guardian of this world. He sensed that the Triforce had been placed here in Hyrule by my sisters, and came here with his army of demons to steal it. He sought to use it to gain the strength necessary to take over the world my sisters had created, and who knows? Perhaps he wanted to one day be strong enough to challenge the Goddesses of Creation themselves…”

“Did you beat him?”

Hylia laughed, and Zelda realized she was perhaps being a tad impatient and should just let the goddess tell her story.

“Yes, after a fashion. It was a fierce battle. Demise is a being of unspeakable cruelty and evil, and his strength is… well, it was enough that he nearly overpowered me. Demise is the father of all monsters and is regarded as a king among demon-kind. When he invaded my world, he led an army of monsters and demons with him, pillaging and murdering and massacring my people in droves. I was devastated… these were my people, my friends, whom I had come to love so much, and my sisters were trusting me to watch over them. I couldn't afford to fail. I put everything I had into fighting Demise, but in the end, I was only able to seal him away temporarily, and the cost in bloodshed among my mortal friends was far too high.”

“Why didn’t your sisters help?” Zelda asked softly.

Hylia sent Zelda a sad smile.

“Because Demise is clever. When my sisters created the world, they created the rules that governed it as well. See, in order for mortals to have their freedom, to be able to act independently and learn and grow, they have to be free from outside interference. If my sisters could just pop in whenever they didn’t like something, then the mortals would never have any agency to act as they see fit. So one of the rules my sisters put in place was that the gods, themselves specifically, could never interfere directly in mortal affairs.

“That was why they left the Triforce behind; so that, in the event that the world needed their help, a being whose heart was in balance with their respected virtues could put forth their hand, touch it, and have their heart’s wish granted. Demise knew of their rule and knew that, if he attacked them directly, they could destroy him. So instead, he attacked their creation with the intent to steal their power.”

“So then… wait, if the gods can’t interfere with mortals, how is it that you were here?”

Hylia shrugged. “The rules didn’t specifically prevent me from being here, only them. I couldn’t do things like grant the mortals powers and I’m not strong enough to do things like create new worlds, not like my sisters, but they asked me to stay just for cases like this, because I think they suspected that Demise might try something. I was supposed to protect them from demons and the like, not from illnesses or accidents or each other. Remember, I wasn’t supposed to be spending as much time with them as I was. I was sort of breaking the rules.”

“Ok…” Zelda replied, sort of understanding. “So then why didn’t anybody use the Triforce like they wanted them to?”

Hylia wilted.

“It’s my fault… the people depended too much on me. None of them had what it took to touch the Triforce and have their wishes granted. If… If I had kept away from them, if I had allowed them to be more independent, then they might have grown enough to take care of themselves, to naturally develop the qualities needed to use the Triforce like was my sisters’ original plan…”

Sensing that she had touched a sore spot, Zelda hastened to change the subject. “Well, what about you? Couldn’t you have wished on the Triforce?”

The other girl shook her head. “No. Gods cannot use the Triforce. It is a power granted specifically to mortals. I don’t know why demons can; perhaps it is because the laws put into effect by my sisters do not bind creatures of the darkness. Perhaps it is because they are so base that the magic that binds the holy relic considers them to be less-than mortals. I can only speculate. Regardless, that is how my sisters made it and that is how it was to be. It’s not like they explain everything to someone as lowly as me.”

She gave a self-deprecating chuckle and Zelda felt irritation grow inside of her.

“Why do you keep saying that? You make it sound like you’re so unworthy of their time, but you’re a goddess too and they’re your sisters. You shouldn’t feel so insecure.”

It was surreal, her sitting there on a cliff trying to bolster the self-confidence of a goddess. Zelda pressed on anyway.

Hylia offered up a weak smile. “It’s not that I’m insecure, really, it’s just… oh, I don’t know. My sisters are all so… perfect and powerful and wise… Everyone can rely on them, you know? They always do what’s right. I guess I just… I envy them. Oh, but you know what it’s like, you have a big sister, don’t you?”

Zelda opened her mouth to say that yes she did, but Tetra had never made her feel inadequate, only to snap her mouth shut as memories of a younger, middle school Zelda flashed through her head. Watching her cool, popular older sister get ready for dates or parties, secretly jealous of how beautiful and confidant Tetra was and how ugly Zelda was in comparison, what with her hideous braces and scrawny preteen body. She’d grown out of it quickly, but she understood all too well how it felt to envy your older sibling.

“So… Alright,” Zelda began, changing the subject and struggling to put everything she had just heard in order. “You’re a goddess, sent by your sisters to protect the world. Some bad guy named Demise shows up, there’s a war in which lots of people die, and you seal him away somewhere. None of this tells me how you became me, or why any of it is relevant now.”

“I know, I know… I told you this was a long story. But I’m almost there, don’t worry.”

Hylia leaned back on her hands and stared up at the sky, and Zelda found herself mimicking her. From so high up in the air, the sky looked pale and cold.

“When the war was coming to a peak, I… I realized that I was in danger of failing my sisters. More than that, I was in danger of failing the mortals I had come to love and cherish. I decided ultimately that no matter what, I could not allow for that to happen. I couldn’t allow those mortals I loved to die. Have you ever loved someone, Zelda? Loved someone so much that you would give up anything for them?”

“I… Yes,” Zelda replied softly, thinking of her father and elder sister, of her friends who were trapped in the museum, and of Link, her Hero, who was still locked up in a police station somewhere. “I know exactly what that’s like.”

“Zelda, I loved those mortals so much that I would have given my life for them… but an immortal goddess cannot give her life, not for anything. I couldn’t die. Oh, I could be sealed away, I could be hurt, a million different things could have been done that might have been just as bad if not worse than death, but to actually die? That was something I couldn’t do. Just another thing on a growing pile of things I couldn’t do. I couldn’t be like my sisters. I couldn’t change. I couldn’t beat Demise. I couldn’t die for those I loved… but a mortal? Mortals can do so much. There’s virtually no limit to what a mortal could do or become. A mortal could wish upon the Triforce and save my people. A mortal could die for the people she loves. And so, there at the apex of the war, I made my decision.”

Zelda was hanging on every word coming out of the teenage goddess’s lips.

“Looking back, I… I don’t know how I did it. It wasn’t supposed to be possible, especially not for some nobody goddess like me. But I think I was spurred on by my determination to save the ones I loved and to not fail my sisters. After my army and I sealed Demise away, knowing that he would someday break free and continue on his quest to destroy this world, I made my gamble. I cast one last spell on the world, to guard against the day Demise would return, and I… gave up my godhood to be reborn as a mortal girl.”

Zelda could only gape for a moment, stunned. She gave up her immortality? A sacrifice of that magnitude, Zelda could hardly even fathom it. She struggled to come up with a response, but the only articulate thing to escape from her mouth was a hoarse sort of grunt.

Hylia turned and cast Zelda a tremulous look. “So… I guess that answers your first question. How am I you if I was a goddess? Because I gave up my immortality to save the people I was sworn to protect. I was born as a mortal girl named Zelda. I had no idea who I used to be, no memory of any life before… But when Demise threatened to break free, the plan the Goddess Hylia had concocted to save the world went into effect.

“A Hero was chosen, a sacred blade was forged, a young girl with the immortal soul of a goddess was awoken to who she really was… And now, after countless lives and lifetimes, here you are, the same girl with the same immortal soul, sitting here beside me.”

Zelda reached up and touched her chest. The immortal soul of a goddess… to think that, once in a past life, Zelda had been a goddess… and she’d given it all up in an effort to save the world…

“I owe you an apology as well," Hylia went on. "When Demise was finally defeated, he used the last of his strength to place a curse on us. So long as my soul continues to be reborn, so long as there is a Hero, we will be plagued by strife and contention. Ultimately, Demise is the reason why we have been made to suffer so much, time and time again… but this is only the case because I was not strong enough to defeat him alone. If I had been strong like my sisters, or if I had let the mortals live their lives as my sisters’ planned, Demise could have been stopped without me needing to make that sacrifice, and you… You would not have been made to suffer so. I’m so, so sorry.”

Zelda shook her head slowly, struggling to comprehend this new, devastating paradigm. So all the lives she’d lived, all the times she was made to suffer, that Link was made to suffer, that her people were made to suffer… Ultimately, it all came down to some punk demon several millennia ago? In her mind’s eye, she saw the myriad faces of her past lives that she’d spoken to over the course of the last twenty-four hours, felt the pain and heartache they’d suffered echoing through the ages. Even now, in her lifetime, Demise’s influence could be felt. What was the shooting if not his curse inflicting itself upon her and Link and the ones they loved?

But then… it wasn’t all bad. Oh sure, she’d give up her multiple lifetimes in a heartbeat if it meant saving her people from this curse, but if this thundercloud that hung perpetually over Hyrule had a silver lining, it was Link. Though she was made to suffer in every lifetime, at least he was always there with her to help her get back on her feet. She would voluntarily choose to suffer in every lifetime if it meant she could see him again.

She said as much to Hylia, hoping it might cheer the goddess up just a smidge.

A watery smile graced her lips.

“Oh, Link… I wish I could claim responsibility for that wonderful boy, but… Well, truth be told, I can’t. I didn’t know he would be your Hero, Zelda. Oh, I planned for there to be a hero, planned for someone to be there to help us in our trials, planned for somebody to forge the blade I’d gifted in my sisters’ flames, to gain the strength necessary to defeat Demise and the virtues necessary to complete the Triforce. All of that I planned… I needed someone with an unbreakable spirit, someone who would care enough about Zelda that they would risk everything to save her… but who it was to be, that I didn’t know. It could have been anyone- young, old, male, female, rich, poor, brave, arrogant. My plan merely required somebody who could fulfill the tasks set out before them. That that person wound up being Link…”

A dry, raspy chuckle escaped her throat.

"Y'know, it's funny. Demise's last curse doomed us and Hyrule to a never-ending cycle of pain… but were it not for Demise, there would be no guarantee that you and Link would find each other over and over again in every life. His curse ensures that both of you will suffer, so when Hyrule is in danger, both of you are naturally drawn in. And together, you defeat the danger, whoever or whatever it might be. You meet, every time, because of him, and because of him, you are Hyrule's salvation. It's almost ironic…"

Zelda opened her mouth, trying to find words, to find something to say, but something about the mood of the moment kept her silent.

"And that is why it was so important that you talk to me, Zelda. My sisters are trying to warn you. The soul you possess, the soul of a goddess, is a powerful thing if it falls into the wrong hands. Though Demise was ultimately defeated, his immortal essence lives on, scattered. Over the centuries, the threat of his return was almost infinitesimal, because of the chaotic nature of the world, but the time you live in is… well, it’s unique.”

“What do you mean?”

“Magic is… gone, Zelda. When it left, the world changed. The people changed. Everything became… mundane. Old seals weakened and vanished, old laws began to fail, lesser spirits lost their influence… And somehow, Demise’s right-hand servant, Ghirahim, has come back. He is surely seeking a way to resurrect his master Demise, and by sacrificing your immortal soul, he just might succeed. He’s done so once before.”

“What?!” Zelda blurted out, horrified. “Sacrifice my _soul_?!”

Hylia nodded somberly.

“But…! But..! How do I stop him?!”

“You’re asking the wrong question, Zelda. You know now that you are vital to the enemy’s plans. You’re too important to risk confronting him directly. I know it is hard, but you must allow yourself to stand back and let someone else take over the fight.”

And there it was, the truth of the message her past lives had been trying to tell her, laid bare for the world to see.

Loathing welled up inside of Zelda’s heart and she turned her outraged gaze on the goddess at her side.

“No! _Never!_ I’m not just some princess in a tower! I won’t stand back like a coward and let someone else get hurt!”

“You think this is cowardice?” Hylia shot back, suddenly angry. “Put your pride to the side for a moment and consider the bigger picture. The world is at stake, Zelda. Our people’s lives depend on you. Would you truly risk it all to play the hero?”

Zelda’s breath was heaving, her fingers digging into the grass below her as she struggled to formulate a cohesive counter-argument.

“I asked if you were prepared to pay any price to save the world,” Hylia reminded her gently.

“I am,” Zelda snapped. “Any price… but this isn’t fair. Not for me, but for him, for Link- “

“I know,” Hylia replied, reaching out and rubbing Zelda’s shoulder. “It never was fair. It never will be. But this is the sacrifice you have to make. I can see into your heart, Zelda; you thought you were prepared to give up anything, but this sacrifice is more foul than you could imagine. It isn’t your life you’re giving, but your humanity. You would accept any suffering for this world, any suffering but that of another, only that is exactly what you have to do. This is what I’m asking of you, what the world is asking of you: to ensure that the world is kept safe from Demise, you need to stand back and let Link fulfill his destiny. You have to let him get hurt again, for your sake, for the world’s. Only then can Demise be kept at bay.”

Zelda’s mind was spinning, valiantly screaming defiance at Hylia’s pronouncement, but the cold, calculated part of her knew that risking herself for some misbegotten show of personal glory was foolish in the extreme and could have terrible consequences. It wasn’t fair to Link or to her to ask her to stay away from the fight… but it wasn’t fair to the world for her to be selfish and do so anyway. Goddesses, she hated having the Triforce of Wisdom sometimes…

“But…” Zelda asked, already feeling defeat begin to settle in, “But what about Majora and… and Ganondorf…? Who’s going to…?”

Was Ganondorf even really there? She hadn’t actually seen him, hadn’t had any indication that he was involved whatsoever… had she been imagining his involvement this entire time?

“Everything else is a distraction, Zelda,” Hylia whispered bracingly. “Link and your friends can handle what comes next. Have faith in them. The only thing that matters is Demise and doing what must be done to protect the world.”

With angry, frustrated tears in her eyes, Zelda met the goddess’s imploring gaze and nodded.

The blonde quirked her head to the side and looked up.

“Our time is running short, Zelda. You know what you have to do. Remember what the others told you; yielding, the price that must be paid and who is to pay it. You are just a mortal, facing what might just be the end of the world if you don’t manage to prevent it, and ultimately you are the linchpin in the enemy’s final plan. Without you, they cannot succeed, so we know you will be their final play.

“Just remember that you are not alone. The Hero is with you. He is always with you. Have faith that my sisters will steer you true. Though you are no longer a goddess, you still promised to keep this world safe, and that promise was never withdrawn. Go, and believe in yourself as I believe in you. You are wise. You will know what to do.”

The light was growing bright, and Hylia was slowly disappearing, but for once Zelda didn’t cry out or demand further explanation. For once, Zelda knew what needed to be done. The last thing on earth she wanted to do. But if it was what the world required of her, then she would see it done though it tear her apart inside. It was her duty after all. She may not be a princess, and she may not be a goddess, but she was still the world’s Zelda.

And she had a promise to keep.


	29. Another Tower

“Are you sure about this, Zel?”

“Yes.”

“And you don’t want to tell me what this is about?”

“There isn’t time. There are things in our world that are better left unknown, and if Link plays his part correctly, then it won’t matter. I can fill you in when this is all over.”

“And… you’re sure Link’s here?”

A soft laugh escaped Zelda’s lips, her right hand drawing up to her breast almost subconsciously.

“I can feel him, Sheik… I was too distracted before, I think, but I recognize it now. He’s here… He’s coming for me.”

“And what exactly am I supposed to tell him? I just whip out your harp, teach him a song and say, ‘hey, go wake up your girlfriend!’ Y’know, because that’s not weird at all.”

Zelda shook her head. This would be so much easier if she could just explain everything about Demise and the fact that she possessed the soul of an immortal goddess… but she was afraid, afraid of revealing too much, afraid of listening ears from the shadows, afraid of how Sheik would react. The less he knew, for now, the better. Besides, Ghirahim could be here to take her any second now; she needed to act quickly.

“No. Link can’t come for me until he’s fulfilled his duty. You don’t need to explain anything; destiny will have led him down his path just as surely as it’s led me. He’ll know what to do. Just… teach him the song to wake me up and tell him… tell him I’ll be waiting.”

She fought down the surge of rage and humiliation that threatened to bubble out of her at the thought that she was being forced against her will into the role of the damsel in distress. This was wrong, all wrong. This wasn’t the role she was meant for. She didn’t want to play this part. But if this was what it took to keep the world safe… then it was what she was going to do.

Sheik was chewing on his lip, obviously displeased. His arms were crossed across his chest, her golden harp dangling from one of his hands, bow stuffed into the quiver on his back, but his eyes were stern and searching, reading her face for some sort of hint or clue as to her true motives.

“…So what about Ganondorf? Is that what this is about? Is he here, somewhere? Is he the one behind all of this?”

A vein was twitching by the corner of Sheik’s eye, and Zelda knew with certainty that if Ganondorf was really involved, Sheik would stop at nothing until he put him down. He would think of it as atoning for his involvement last year, only Sheik was in no way capable of dealing with Ganondorf on his own. And anyway, Zelda honestly had no idea where he was or what he was doing. Was he the one behind everything after all, as she had thought? Was he even _involved?_ Or was he out there in the world doing something completely unrelated that would wind up blowing up in their faces someday in the not-so-distant future, completely oblivious to what was going on here and now in the Museum of National History?

"That's…" Zelda began hesitantly, not sure how to deny his suspicions that Ganondorf was the root behind all of this without spawning even more questions that she couldn't answer about the demon Demise. "It's not important, Sheik. This is the greatest threat Link and I have ever faced, but it's Link that has to face it. Trust him, Sheik. Trust him as I trust him. He's the Hero of Time; he's saved the world countless times in the past, and he can save it again.”

Sheik sighed, doubt and frustration evident in his blood-red Sheikah irises, but after a pregnant pause, he finally looked away and nodded begrudgingly. He looked pissed about it, but he agreed nonetheless. Good; now it was time to put her plan into motion.

But first… there was something she needed to say.

Stepping forward, she caught Sheik off-guard by enveloping him in a sudden, rib-cracking hug. Her face buried in his shoulder, she closed her eyes and tried to banish the wicked little voice in her head that feared this would be her last sensation. Link was coming for her. She trusted him. She trusted Sheik, too. Everything would turn out alright, she just needed to have faith in her friends and the Goddesses.

“Zel…?”

“Sheik, I… Thank you. For helping me, for… for being there for me during all of this craziness. I know it’s not anything that you ever wanted, but… I’m grateful.”

He said nothing, merely wrapping his arms around her and hugging her back just as tightly.

Her next sentence came tumbling out of her almost of its own accord. “I… I’ve never had a brother before, but-“

“What are you, high?” he cut in, voice uncharacteristically gruff. “You’ve had a brother for over a year now, where have you been?”

She chuckled humorlessly, giving Sheik one final squeeze before pulling away and wiping discretely at her eyes. She really had lucked out when she moved to Ordon last year. In spite of everything that had happened to her since, she didn’t regret it. She’d never have made friends this wonderful anywhere else.

She took a step back and turned to face the carved mural behind the altar. The Temple of Time was silent, but she no longer felt awed by the age of the building. After her latest revelation, she knew now that in a way, she was older than it ever was.

Closing her eyes, she focused her magic along the fringes of the mural and located the locking mechanism. With a soft gasp, she released her spell, and with a bright flash of pink, the wall retracted into the ceiling, revealing a large empty chamber, the only thing inside being a lonely pedestal sitting on the raised dais in the middle of the floor. The blade that normally rested in it was no doubt in the hands of its proper owner. She would wait for him here, then. It seemed fitting.

Sheik emitted a hollow whistle as he examined the room, but he stopped at the doorway as though sensing that he didn’t belong here. Navi felt no such compunctions; Zelda was hardly five steps in when she felt the little girl’s arms tackle her from behind.

“Zelda, no! I wanna stay with you!”

Zelda sighed, not unkindly, turning around to face their little helper, running her fingers through the smaller girl’s short, periwinkle hair.

“You can’t, Navi. I have to do this alone. Besides, Sheik needs your help. You’re the only one who can find their way through the museum without getting lost. He’ll never be able to find the Hero of Time without you.”

“But I’m scared…” she choked out softly.

“Sheik will keep you safe. Navi, I know this is hard, but you need to be brave. Your friends need you. If you go with Sheik, you can find them again. Don’t pass up this chance.”

The little girl bit her lip, no doubt searching for some excuse in her head, but Sheik strode up beside her and took her hand in his.

“C’mon, Navi. We’re wasting the princess’s time. And anyway, we have a world to save, remember?”

She finally nodded, but her lip was quivering tremulously and she looked like she was desperate to find any reason to say no.

Sheik linked eyes with Zelda once more.

“We’ll find him, don’t worry.”

“You remember the song?”

“Yeah, yeah, I got it covered. Go ahead and take your nap already.”

Zelda smiled, giving a rueful shake of the head to her best-friend-slash-brother before walking the rest of the way toward the empty pedestal and closing her eyes. Focusing her energy, she summoned all of the magic at her disposal and began weaving the cocoon that would encase her until her knight came to wake her from the spell. A spell of her own devising, trapping her in potentially endless sleep should something go wrong. Alone, helpless and unable to help as the people she loved fought for the world’s survival. How unfair her destiny had become.

She opened her eyes one last time to see Sheik and Navi waiting by the doorway. Amber light shone all around her, solidifying into a massive crystal that would leave her frozen inside like a prehistoric insect, a spell she distantly recalled from a half-remembered lifetime.

She had told them they didn't need to wait, but apparently, Sheik wasn't going to leave her until she was out. Ever the bodyguard… As soon as they left, the wall would retract, hiding her inside. When Link played the song to open it, the spell would break, and she'd be free. The spell was strong enough that Ghirahim or Majora should have no hope of breaking through, at least not anytime soon; Demise could probably shatter it, but if he awoke and regained that much power, he’d likely just kill her outright without bothering to release her.

No, not if she ever woke up… _When_ she woke up. Link would be there.

And if he didn’t make it… if she never opened her eyes again…

Well…

Maybe she wouldn’t want to.

‘ _Nayru,_ ’ she prayed as the crystal solidified, stiffening all around her limbs like hardening jelly, her consciousness beginning to fade, ‘ _Din, Farore… Hylia’s older sisters… Please… I’m trying so hard to keep her promise to you, to keep this world safe… Please… if you can… look out for my friends… and watch over Link… Guide his feet…_ ’

The massive amber crystal solidified entirely, floating silently in the air above the empty pedestal. Zelda was frozen inside, eyes closed, arms extended to either side, hair billowing out behind her… frozen in time, indefinitely. In the dusty light streaming in through the single massive stained glass window, she looked like an angel.

Sheik cleared his throat roughly, tearing his gaze away and tugging at Navi’s hand, ignoring the way the tears fell down her face as he fought to keep his own in check.

He didn’t understand what was going on. He knew she was hiding something from him, something big, something dangerous… but he would do what she asked. He trusted her, and he trusted Link. But if either of them thought for a moment they were doing this alone, they had another thing coming.

Together, he and Navi exited the temple, the heavy stone mural sliding back into place behind them. Their footsteps echoed hollowly off the silent walls around them.

Now, more than ever, the ancient building felt like a tomb.

* * *

With hurried footsteps, two out-of-breath teenagers hurtled around the corner of the old brick corridor and sprinted pell-mell down the adjoining hall.

“Link… You never… told me where… we are!” Midna gasped between labored breaths as she struggled to keep up with her friend.

“Hyrule Castle!” Link replied loudly, taking another corner and nearly knocking over an old set of armor. He’d need to find some way to thank Farore for granting him her blessing; he was winded, but not nearly as badly as Midna was. She looked like she was about to pass out. Did Goddesses accept thank-you cards? Could he, like, send her flowers? Seriously, it was like a get-out-of-gym free card stamped on the back of his hand. He really didn’t take the time to appreciate it often enough.

“Oh,” Midna wheezed pathetically from behind him. It was a mark of how bizarre their day had been that the knowledge that she was within _the_ Hyrule Castle didn't phase her in the slightest. 

“Yeah. There’s a wall… sealed up in the King’s study. It should be somewhere right around…”

The duo rounded one more corner and immediately Link’s eyes landed upon the familiar wooden double doors, still standing ajar, just as he’d left them.

“Here,” he finished simply, slowing to a walk. Midna let out a grateful wheeze, clutching to Link’s arm to help her stay upright. He fixed her with a pseudo-imperious eyebrow raise as though condemning her less-than athletic physique, to which she merely snorted in response.

“Oh please…” she panted. “Were it not… for that stupid… Triforce… you’d be passed out… six hallways back…”

Well, she wasn’t wrong.

Without further ado, the teens stepped into the study, Link half-carrying Midna, and the two gave the place a brief once-over with their eyes as though checking for booby-traps. Same heavy wooden desks, same empty bookshelves, same thick layer of dust… Nobody had come or gone since Link’s last visit as a wolf. That was good. Or at the very least, it wasn’t bad. The Dark Link must still be behind that wall.

“You sure this is the right place?” Midna asked, her voice still somewhat hoarse from all her ragged breathing. “I mean, with how turned around this museum is…”

“This is exactly the place,” Link replied softly, “I’ve been here before, remember? Besides, Fi wouldn’t have led us astray. It doesn’t matter how screwed up this place gets, she can guide me just about anywhere.”

“Well, alright," Midna replied, still sounding somewhat skeptical as she finally detached herself from Link’s arm. “So then, how do we get in there?”

Before Link could answer, a deep baritone voice spoke softly from somewhere to their left.

“So… You have returned…”

The great, hulking, ghostly visage of the late King Daphnes Nohanson du Hyrule materialized before them, floating in that weird, unearthly way ghosts do. Midna let out a shriek and whipped her handbag at him before letting out a feral growl and glaring murderously at Link as though it were his fault. Without warning, she socked him in the arm.

“I- ow! Hey! What was that for?!”

“Why are things always mysteriously popping into existence around you?” she shrieked. He half expected Fi to pop into existence again just to accentuate her point, but was grateful when she did not.

The King paid no more notice to Midna’s antics than to shoot her a brief, amused glance.

“All you must do is stand before the emblem and command it to rise," he went on as if he hadn't been interrupted. “The ancient magics I set upon the wall will do the rest. I wish you well, Hero. Long has it been since last we met, but it does this old soul well to know that you have found such bold and energetic new companions to accompany you on your trials, as was once my great honor.”

He nodded to Midna, then turned back to face the sealed wall, a troubled look adorning his regal countenance.

“Yet another companion of yours awaits within… But the man who took her, the man who bears your face and fooled my wards… He is not a man to be trifled with. I sense great malice within. Take care, and remember: no matter what, you are never alone.

“Before you depart, however, I have a gift for you.”

Link, who had been paying more attention to the wall that barred his way than he was to the king’s speech, blinked and looked around.

There, sitting on the desk where it most certainly hadn’t been before, sat a sturdy-looking shield.

“Though it pains me to admit it, there is little more I can do for you,” the king murmured regretfully even as Link hefted the shield in his arms and looked it over. It was heavy, rimmed in silver, and bore both the Golden Triforce and the Hyrulean coat of arms etched in deep red over a field of blue.

Turning it over, he found a supple leather belt through which he slid his arm, seizing the handle and giving it a few tryout swings. It fit like a glove. It was almost like it was made for him. The Hero’s Shade had taught him how to fight with a shield back in the Sacred Grove. Now that he had one, his confidence in his fighting skills had increased dramatically.

Surprisingly touched, Link turned to thank the kindly old ghost but felt he words die in his throat as he met his gaze. The man's somber, wrinkled face was adorned with a soft, fatherly smile. With one last comforting nod, the spirit of the ancient king faded away, and once again Link was left alone with Midna.

“You traveled with the King of Hyrule?” Midna blurted out, shooting Link a surprised look and completely shattering the mood left by the king’s passing.

“Not in this lifetime,” he replied slowly. “I think… I don’t know, I can’t really remember my past lives all that well, but… Something about a boat?”

“The Hero of Winds?”

“Maybe… Anyway, it doesn’t matter now. We have a job to do.”

“Master,” Fi spoke up suddenly, erupting out of Link’s sword in an explosion of light before he could make a move towards the wall. “The King spoke of another companion of yours waiting inside. I suspect a seventy-five percent chance he was referring to Tatl.”

Without another word, she vanished once more back into Link’s blade.

Midna and Link exchanged looks.

“She… likes to point out the obvious a lot,” Link offered up hesitantly, an embarrassed smile on his face.

“Sounds to me like she just likes to hear herself talk,” Midna grumbled in response. “Will you hurry up and get this wall open already?”

“Yeah, yeah…” Link replied, shuffling forward and facing the wall dead-on. The anxiety that had been gnawing away at his insides for the better part of the day, both for Tatl’s wellbeing and for his upcoming duel with Dark Link, grew to a crescendo, but Link did his best to force it down. Now, finally, after so much searching, he'd caught up to them. Tatl was inside. She had to be. The King had basically told them so; after all, how many other small female companions had he had?

Clearing his throat, Link summoned up all of his determination and resolve to put an end to Dark Link’s trickery once and for all, and in a loud voice called out, “Open!”

For a moment, nothing happened. Link blinked awkwardly, staring at the wall, starting to feel more than a little silly for talking to an inanimate object and just expecting it to react when all at once, with the tell-tale grating of cement dragging across brick, the wall retracted into the ceiling, raining dust and bits of stone down onto the floor.

Beyond the newly formed opening was darkness, but at the end of the short tunnel Link could see a dim sort of light.

Midna stepped up beside him and offered him a brief glance that was both confident and reassuring.

“We got this.”

With a short nod and a heavy breath, Link took a moment to gather his bearings and work his arms, bouncing his shoulders up and down and loosening his joints. This was it, the moment he’d been waiting for for so, so long…

Time to move.

The tunnel beyond the wall was short and dark, made up of the same sort of cement that the magic retractable wall had been, the ceiling no more than a foot or so above Link’s head. Indiana Jones movies had taught Link that ancient secret tunnels were always filled with cobwebs and rat skeletons, but it would seem that was not the case here. There was nothing else inside but him and Midna; no dirt, no grime, no age. Only Link, Midna, and the darkness.

The soft, dim light in the distance slowly grew closer and closer until at last the tunnel opened up into a spacious room.

Link’s eyes widened and his arms slumped in dull shock as he took his first steps into what he’d thought was the King’s secret hideaway. He’d been expecting the worst, sure, but… he hadn’t been expecting this.

It was a pond. Or, well, something like that. He wasn’t really sure what to call it, exactly. For all intents and purposes, it looked as though he and Midna had stepped out of the tunnel and into the middle of a lake.

The water was clear as glass and reflected Link and Midna’s startled faces back at them like a supernatural mirror. A dull, misty fog enveloped the area in a soft sort of pale white fuzz that reminded him uncomfortably of a horror movie, and to add to that unpleasant thought, nothing else could be seen around them in any direction. Not up above, not around, not anywhere, not for miles. It was all misty white space and reflective water, nothing else.

Nothing except for a solitary little patch of dirt that rose out of the reflective pool like a miniature island and the small, dead tree that sat lonely atop it.

“Link…” Midna whispered, her voice heavy with fear. Uncomprehending, Link turned back and was startled to find their tunnel had vanished. More of the museum’s trickery, or… was something more nefarious at play?

Hesitant, Link took a step forward and was relieved to see that though it looked like they were standing atop the water’s glassy surface, there was actually a solid floor beneath their feet. The water splashed under his footsteps, but it can't have been more than a few centimeters deep or so. Ripples spread out from around him, distorting his and Midna’s reflections, but his shoe didn’t slip or slide atop whatever surface they were standing on. Despite the water, his footing was sure. Well, that was one less thing to worry about. Now if only he could figure out where they were… and why there were there… and where Tatl was…

As though in answer to his thought, the sound of someone sniffling reached his ears and Link jerked his head up reflexively. Though human once again, he could still feel his hackles rising on his neck. His hearing was once again that of a human’s, but he recognized the sound as that of a young female child trying and failing to muffle her tears. Even more, a sort of dark presence suddenly impressed itself upon his mind. They were here. Finally, they were here…

When his eyes landed on the duo standing upon the lonely, almost ghostly island, however, Link felt as though he’d been socked unexpectedly in the gut. There was the Dark him sure enough, standing upon the muddy beach as calm as you please, a cold, emotionless glare on his face, his eyes glowing like the embers of a dying flame.

The girl at his side, however, wasn’t Tatl.

He had no idea who she was. Huddled tearfully behind his doppelganger, she was younger than Tatl by a couple years. Four, or maybe five years old at most, she had sandy brown hair that fell around her head in ringlets, a round, innocent face and a pair of wide, moss green eyes that appeared to be perpetually startled. The yellow sunflower shirt she was wearing was old and faded, as were her jeans, a dead giveaway that she was another of the missing orphans (as if there could be any doubt of that; it wasn’t as if any other children were in the museum right now), but as her tearful gaze landed upon Link, silently pleading for help, the powerful realization that this was _not_ the little girl he was looking for struck him once again and he felt something deep inside him snap.

“Where is she?”

“It’s about time, Hero,” Dark Link replied coldly.

“Where is she?!” Link roared once again, drawing his sword and his shield in one fluid motion, exactly as the ghost of his past-life had taught him.

The little girl let out a whimper and, in a burst of fear of panic, tried to make a break for it, but Dark Link’s hand shot out and seized her by her hair, wrenching her back to his side and twisting his arm so her neck was forced to stand on her tip-toes, eliciting frantic sobs.

“What’s the matter?” Dark called tauntingly. “This poor little thing’s been waiting here all this time for her rescuers to arrive, and now you don’t even want her? That’s cold, Hero.”

His terror for Tatl’s wellbeing and hatred for the copycat before him raged throughout his being like a torrential waterfall, but the sight of a defenseless child being literally abused before his eyes cut through the gale of mindless rage like an icy knife. She may not be Tatl, but she still needed help. He had to act, and quickly.

Midna was faster, however. Stepping forward, the sourceless light in the room seemed to dim around her as her one showing eye began to glow and her ponytail slowly drifted upward to stand on end. One hand slipped into her bag as if she were going to draw something out, but the other pointed ominously in Dark Link’s direction, fingers spread out and trembling ever-so-slightly as she hissed, her voice surprisingly murderous, “Let her go. Now.”

“Don’t waste your breath,” Dark Link replied, sparing Midna a brief, apathetic look before jerking his arm roughly forward and hurling the little girl toward them. “She’s no longer of any use to me.”

The girl let out a startled cry and managed to keep her balance for three steps before crashing to the ground, water soaking through her clothes. She remained where she fell, her body shuddering violently as her thin torso was wracked with uncontrollable sobs.

Midna was at her side in a heartbeat, scooping the pitiable creature into her arms like an injured bird while Link kept his eyes trained on Dark Link in case he tried anything funny. Dark Link’s glowing red eyes remained locked on his, however, hardly even seeming to notice the other two girls, as if everything but Link had vanished from his world.

When Midna made it back to his side with the orphan cradled in her arms, she fell to her knees, ignorant of the water, gently rocking the little girl as she whispered soothing words into her ears and glared with poorly suppressed hatred in Dark Link’s direction.

“Link,” she grated after a moment, her voice rough and feral. “If you don’t deal with him sometime in the next five minutes, I’ll be forced to rip his head off for you.”

Link made a placating gesture with his shield but said nothing. There was nothing he wanted more in this world than to be the one to remove this imposter’s demonic head from his shoulders, but oddly enough the role of ‘rational thinker’ seemed to have been passed from Midna to Link the moment Dark Link had begun hurting that little girl.

Midna was letting her hatred blind her; Link understood that feeling all too well, but the sight of the little girl in pain had cut through the lust for vengeance and reminded him that more than one little kid’s safety was at stake here. If he charged forward sword-first and killed him before he got any information, he might never be able to find Tatl or the other missing children. He needed to know whatever Dark Link knew. He needed to get him talking.

“Midna,” Link said softly. “Keep her out of the way. I’ll deal with this.”

He half expected her to argue with him, but to his relief, she merely rose to her feet and carried the little girl a few yards away. With one less thing to worry about, confident that Midna could protect her, Link turned his attention back to his dark self.

“Cocky, aren’t we?” Dark Link mocked.

Link wanted to remind his adversary that he wasn’t the one who still hadn’t bothered to draw his weapon yet, but decided against it.

“I just wanted the pleasure of killing you myself.”

A feral grin slipped crookedly across Dark Link’s face. “Oh, I like that. I like that very much.”

“But first,” Link said quickly as Dark began drawing his sword and removing his own pitch-black shield from off his back, an addition he didn’t have the last time they’d met in the Sacred Grove, “explain something to me. Who are you? Where did you come from? And why are you so obsessed with these orphans?”

Dark Link snorted in an almost patronizing sort of way. “What, is this the part where you get me monologuing about my tortured past? Sorry to disappoint you, Hero, but there’s not much to say. Who am I? I’m the Dark you. Where did I come from? I don’t know. I don’t care. And the kids? Well, I couldn’t tell you why they’re important even if I wanted to. I only agreed to go along with this because I knew it would get your attention.”

“So then why do you want to kill me?” Link blurted out, flabbergasted.

“Because you exist!” Dark Link snarled, slashing his blade fitfully through the air like an agitated cat. “Because I’m your opposite! Because tearing you apart and dragging you kicking and screaming into the darkness is what I live for! It’s why I exist! Nothing else matters!”

“And you don’t know why you were told to kidnap the orphans?”

“I already answered this.”

“Who do you work for?”

“Enough talk, Hero! I’ve waited long enough! Come at me!”

“Where is Tatl?!”

“Beat me and maybe I’ll tell you!”

“Fine,” Link spat. If this Dark Link really didn’t know anything, then there was no harm in tearing him apart. He didn’t have to hold back. “Thanks for making this easy for me.”

Dark Link laughed then, a wild, hysterical sort of laugh, and as he did, his entire body seemed to dim. His skin turned dark, his clothing, his hair, until finally, it was as though Link were facing off against a three-dimensional humanoid shadow. The only part of him that wasn't pitch-black were his eyes which glowed a startling blood-red against the darkness. 

“Finally…” the shadow seethed. “Do you have any idea how many centuries I’ve waited for this?! You’re mine, Hero! Finally, I’m going to extinguish that feeble light in your eyes!”

And without further preamble, Dark Link was charging forward, black blade held low, feet splashing in the thin layer of water. With a wordless snarl, Link moved to meet his reflection.

The first clash of blades rang out with a hollow clang, the noise seemingly muffled by the endless fog all around them. The duo’s eyes met, Dark Link flashed a sinister smirk, and then they were off, swords flickering through the air, metal smashing against metal as the two began their fated deadly dance.

If not for Link’s impromptu swordsmanship seminar with his ghostly past-life a few hours earlier, he never would have been able to survive in this fight past the first couple of seconds. The oddness of certain events during last year’s school shooting had led Link to believe that part of the whole ‘Hero of Time reincarnation’ thing or maybe the Triforce of Courage made it so that Link had an instant mastery over any weapon (or weapon-like object) that he picked up, hence how he managed to win fights using tools as bizarre as fire extinguishers or staplers.

His training in the Sacred Grove had taught him better; though fighting was in his soul, something beaten into him over so many lives and lifetimes that it was basically a part of his genetic structure, there was a nuanced art to swordplay that mandated constant practice and refinement to maintain. The same was true for all great works of skill or art; practice made perfect, and even the Hero of Time was expected to put in his dues, even if the Goddesses made it a little easier for him to pick up on things.

His time with his past-self had seen to that refinement, however; floating in that cloudy, timeless void while Tatl slept at his side, Link had had the opportunity to regain the skill lost in the gaps between lifetimes and had emerged from his hibernation a swordsman worthy of the Master Sword, the epitome of blades, the greatest weapon known to mankind, the sword that seals the darkness. Together, Link and the Master Sword made a combination that simply could not be beat.

So how then was this shadowy imposter doing so well against him?

Sweat was beginning to bead up on Link’s forehead as he forced every ounce of his strength and willpower into his duel with his doppelgänger, and yet though he parried and thrusted, countered and struck with all of the force and skill that his past life had impressed upon him, Dark Link met him blow for blow, somehow managing to find the upper hand, exploiting Link’s weak spots with savage delight.

Link struck, and Dark Link turned his blade aside, struck and nearly lost an ear as his foe feinted and instead lashed out at his face. A light gash on his upper-arm was bleeding into his shirtsleeve, his thigh bore a shallow cut, and as he continued on in his struggle, using his shield to knock aside a would-be decapitation, water soaking into his tennis shoes. He became acutely aware of the frantic beating of his heart pounding in his ears and the ever-so-slight trembling in his hands.

He was afraid. Link Hero was afraid.

Dark Link seemed to be able to sense this as well, and the sneer on his enshrouded face grew all the more pronounced. His efforts redoubled, Dark Link launched himself into the fray once more, his black blade flickering through the air like a bat straight for Link’s throat, and all at once Link was being actively driven backward.

Link struggled to regain momentum, but his battle was flagging in time with his confidence. His fear was getting the better of him. Perhaps it was normal to be afraid in a fight to the death against your evil twin, but there was a part of him that didn’t want to acknowledge his terror because, as the Hero of Time, Link wasn’t supposed to be afraid of anything… and yet he was.

He was afraid of dying, afraid of failing Midna and the little girl she held cradled in her arms, afraid of not making it to Zelda and Aryll and the others in time, afraid of never finding Tatl. Truth be told, Link was terrified… and at that moment, he didn't feel very much like the legendary Hero of Time at all. For a wild moment, as he ducked a lethal swing from Dark Link's sword and scrambled around behind him back towards the island, looking for an opening, he wondered what the ghost of his past-life would say if he could see him now.

As though summoned by Link’s plight, he heard the voice of his past-self echoing up out of his memories and into his mind: ‘ _A sword wields no strength unless the hand that holds it has courage._ ’

Courage… Of course…

With a roar, Link struck out with his shield, landing a glancing blow on Dark Link’s shoulder. It wasn’t enough to hurt him, but knocked him off-balance and forced him to step back to recover, a distance only widened by Link lashing out wildly with his sword with the intent to drive his assailant back. He needed to regroup if he wanted to turn the tide of this fight against his enemy and to do that he needed a little bit of space. 

The mist lay heavy over their battlefield, the water rippling around their feet. Link could see Midna and the little girl sitting off to the side behind Dark Link’s shoulder, partially hidden in the fog. Part of him wished she would take her out of there just in case things went poorly, but lost as they were in the middle of nowhere and with the way the museum worked, any attempt to flee could easily land Midna in an even worse situation than the one they were in now. The safest course of action would be for Link to defeat his enemy and have Fi guide them out. Safest, but not the simplest. If only he could figure out what his enemy’s weakness was…

Dark Link feinted forward, but Link called the bluff and calmly stepped backwards to give himself a little more space… only his heel struck something solid and all at once Link was backpedaling, desperately trying to keep his balance on suddenly uneven floor. As he stumbled, the ground beneath him seemed to shift beneath his footsteps as it rose gradually up out of the water; it took him a second to realize what had happened, and in that second Dark Link closed the gap between them.

Link barely managed to bring his sword up to catch his enemy’s, their blades locking with a jarring clash of steel, the force of the impact knocking Link fully off-balance and sending him tumbling backward. He expected to fall straight onto his back, disoriented and completely subjected to Dark Link's will, only a split-second after Dark Link and Link collided, something rough and solid slammed in between Link's shoulder blades, nearly driving the wind from his lungs with a haggard grunt.

Link was caught between a rock and a hard place. Or… well, between a Dark Link and a tree. Because that's what it was he was leaning against, he realized. The solid object that his foot had hit earlier when Dark Link had feinted forward, that was the tiny little island situated in the middle of their absurdly shallow pond. When Link dove behind his enemy earlier, looking for a reprieve, he'd unwittingly put himself between Dark Link and the island without even realizing his back was to it. When the light of understanding showed in Link's eyes, Dark Link grinned.

“Pathetic,” he grated breathily, his face mere inches away from Link's. "To think, all I needed to beat you was a cheap distraction. You've lost your edge over the centuries, Hero. I'm almost embarrassed to be the one who gets to kill you."

Link’s shoes were sliding on the muddy dirt below him as he struggled to push Dark Link off, but to no avail. He was strong, far stronger than he looked.

“Well, never mind. Who cares how it’s done, right? A sword to the throat, a knife in the back, poison, whatever… dead is dead. At the end of the day, I’m still the last one standing. As you lay here dying after I gut you, Hero, I want you to think about that. Think about how I killed you, and realize that I’ve been better than you all along. After all, Hero, I am you. I have all your strength, your skill, your talent- and I know all your weaknesses. How could you have ever hoped to defeat me?”

At that moment, as Dark Link’s words began to sink into Link’s mind, as the realization of the impossibility of his situation began to settle over him and the last vestiges of hope for survival began to flicker and die in Link’s heart, something altogether unexpected happened.

In a salvo of light, Fi erupted out of Link’s sword.

Link and Dark Link both turned to stare at her with twin expressions of incredulity. There they were, in the middle of their dramatic, emotional final battle, and then out of the blue, some weird fairy spirit girl just pops in to interrupt. It was a little rude, sure, but the only thing going through Link's mind as he stared in flabbergasted consternation at the spirit of his weapon was how she seriously had no concept of when it was appropriate to pop out and provide commentary.

Dark Link looked like he wanted to swat her like she was some kind of giant blue gnat, only his hands were a little occupied in keeping Link trapped against the old, withered tree. He was reduced to sending her withering scowls in the hopes that it would drive her back, only it would seem Fi was as oblivious to body language as she was to social interaction.

“Master,” she began in her traditional emotionless way, addressing Link for all the world as if he were not moments away from death, “it would appear that this is the man to whom you were earlier referring. Readings indicate a one-hundred-percent match in physiological makeup when compared to your own. There seems to be no doubt that this is the Dark Link who has been causing you grief.”

“Yeah, I got that,” Link grunted wryly, still struggling to stay on his feet above the shifting sand. Dark Link turned to shoot Link a look that seemed to question what sort of loony-bin he was getting his traveling companions from. He wished he had a clever way to respond to that, but truth be told, the only thing Link could focus on in that moment was how the last thing Link would ever hear was Fi being annoying and pointing out the obvious once again.

Fi, however, was not done interrupting.

“The imposter’s claims of superiority are, however, logically invalid. Your strength, speed, and endurance are exactly matched. The only thing setting you apart is his knowledge of your weaknesses. However, as your imposter is exactly like you in every way, it stands to reason that his weaknesses are the exact same as your own, and thus you also have an exact knowledge of how to exploit them.”

And just like that, she vanished once again back into Link’s sword.

Dark Link blinked, staring at the spot she’d vanished from with a look of deep consternation on his face.

“What in the-?”

With a grunt, Link whipped his head forward and smashed his forehead straight into Dark Link’s nose.

It was a cheap move, and one that shouldn’t have worked, yet it did. His dark twin stumbled back with a hoarse cry, dark blood bubbling out from his nostrils, and Link suddenly found himself freed from his imprisonment against the dead tree.

Fi was right… Dark Link had caught Link off-guard earlier by tricking him into tripping over the unleveled ground and losing his footing. If Link could get distracted, Dark Link could as well, and Link was just as adept at seizing the advantage as his enemy was. They were the same, after all.

His first instinct was to press the attack, but Fi’s bizarrely helpful words were still fresh in his mind. Dark Link would be expecting that because Link was expecting that, so instead Link ducked back around the tree and leaped off the island, landing back in the shallow pool with a splash. He wanted secure footing, not somewhere where the sand shifted under his feet and the ground sloped downhill. The island wasn’t very large, thankfully, so removing himself from it and leaving its vicinity effectively removed it as an obstacle and allowed him to focus on Dark Link alone.

His opponent didn’t take too lightly to him retreating, however. With a snarl of rage, no doubt from having his nostrils bashed in, Dark Link took a running leap off the island, his sword held in both hands to deliver a powerful jumping strike.

Link sidestepped carefully, narrowly dodging the blow so as to be close enough to his target to land a diagonal strike near his blind spot, only to have Dark Link roll nimbly forward, evading the blow and hopping back to his feet. Link advanced on the balls of his feet, pressing the attack as his enemy had done earlier, exchanging several blows in rapid succession before falling back to block a few with his shield, racking his brain for a strategy.

Fi’s unexpected and strangely-timed advice was definitely helping; knowing that Dark Link was aiming for his weaknesses helped Link know exactly where he ought to aim as well, and where the duel before was one-sided against Link, now he was managing to hold his own. He still wasn’t winning, however. Dark Link was just too good.

Link dove to the side once more, coming up in a quick roll and performing an upward-diagonal slash as he rose to his feet, exactly the way that his past-life had taught him, aiming for Dark Link’s back. Dark Link, however, anticipated the attack and slammed Link’s strike away with his shield, twisting on the spot and delivering a powerful kick to Link’s abdomen.

Link caught the blow with his sword arm, trapping his foot beneath his armpit as he struck Dark Link’s thigh with his shield, earning a cry of pain as a reward, but he was forced to quickly release his enemy to evade the retaliatory slash that would have opened his throat. 

He made a wide horizontal slash to vie for space, only to have Dark Link flip backward unexpectedly, nearly catching Link’s chin with his foot. Before he could recover from the surprise, Dark Link surged forward once more, body low and behind his shield as he prepared to stab with the full force of his body weight behind it.

Link waited till the last second to side-step before ramming Dark Link with his shoulder, knocking him off-balance and nearly sending him toppling to the ground. He recovered and slashed at Link’s knees, barely evading a blow to the head from Link’s shield that would have left his world spinning.

A wild laugh escaped Dark Link’s throat, and Link, enraged, thinking he was being mocked, pressed all the harder.

Their blades flashed in the air between them, shields blocking as much as striking, dodging and rolling and leaping in an all-around dizzying performance of swordsmanship. Elbows and knees joined in on the hits, and before Link knew it both he and his foe were covered in a multitude of cuts and bruises. Neither of them had managed a lethal or even crippling blow.

Dark Link surged forward only to slide low at the last second, planting his hand and pivoting on the ground with supernatural speed, kicking Link’s feet out from under him. Link hit the ground hard, but rolled to avoid the would-be fatal strike, the blade grazing his shoulder. As he struggled to rise, Dark Link slammed into him from the front, pressing on him with his shield, readying his sword, and as Link fell onto his back under Dark Link’s weight he hoisted his legs up and used the momentum to flip his opponent over him, sending him sprawling across the floor.

Clothing soaked through with water and small amounts of blood, Link staggered to his feet, feeling exhaustion begin to settle in. His stamina was superb, but not indefinite. Dark Link appeared to be the same; though he lacked the blessing of the Triforce of Courage, he was clearly augmented by dark magic in some way. That was the only explanation for how he could keep up with Link, how he could do the things he did. Link needed to end this, somehow, quickly.

With a roar like a bull, Link ran forward, blade held in both hands, and crashed into Dark Link. Their blades locked together just as they had been by the tree, faces inches apart as they snarled at one another, both trying to push the other one back. Their strength was matched, however, and neither one budged an inch.

Dark Link suddenly erupted in a fit of wild, frenetic laughter, like a deranged hyena.

“Yes, yes! Fight! Fight me, Hero! Fight me with all you have! You’re beginning to see it, aren’t you? How futile this all is?!”

“What are you talking about?” Link grunted, his arms starting to tremble. He could feel Dark Link’s arms doing the same.

“We’re evenly matched! There’s nothing you or I can do to gain the upper-hand! This is it, Hero, can’t you see?! We’re destined to continue fighting each other forever until we collapse from exhaustion! There’s nothing you have that I don’t! Nothing that makes you different, makes you special! Nothing sets you apart, not from me!”

“He has friends!” an unexpected voice shouted from the sidelines, and both Link and Dark Link turned to stare at Midna in surprise. She stood with her hip cocked, one hand on her waist and the other around the orphan girl’s shoulder, wearing her trademark scowl as she shot a one-eyed glower in their direction.

“Come on, you know how this goes. This is literally as cliché as it gets. You both might be the same physically, but you’re not the same inside. Unlike you, Link’s not a total douche bag. I mean yeah, he’s an idiot sometimes, and he’s a complete dork, and he’s probably going to have to repeat high school since he sleeps through all of his classes-“

“Hey! I do not!”

“- but in spite of all of his obvious flaws, and there are lots of them, I could go on, Link’s still a pretty good guy at heart. He’s got a lot of friends who he looks out for, and who look out for him in return. That’s what makes you two idiots different; the fact that you’re alone and he’s not. No matter how your stupid testosterone-fueled sword-measuring contest goes, Link knows I’ve got his back.”

“Yeah!” the little girl at her side chimed in unexpectedly, stomping her feet so that they splashed petulantly in the reflective water. “You’re just a big, dumb bully! Linky’s gonna kick your butt ‘cause he’s a hero and you’re a loser!”

It was the first time Link had actually heard her say anything, and he was caught off-guard by her adorable speech impediment; she pronounced all of her R’s and L’s like W’s, and she had a lisp, probably because she was missing so many of her front teeth. She finished her tirade by sticking out her tongue in the most menacing way a five-year-old could manage, and somehow, despite coming from that youthful face, it actually came across as mildly insulting.

Dark Link’s responding glare made her look like a kitten mewling before a lion, however. “Listen here, you little runt. After I kill this idiot, I’m coming for you next.”

The little girl blanched and stepped quickly behind Midna, yet her eyes looked to Link with the most hopelessly pleading expression he’d ever seen, as though begging him to come to her defense.

Something came over Link, then; something warm and powerful that surged through his body and down into his arm, making his fingertips tingle. He knew this feeling… He’d felt it before, in past lives. He didn't know what it was, where it had come from, or why it came to him at the moment that Dark Link threatened that little girl, but before he could finish his sentence, Link found himself reacting to some sort of internal stimulus. 

Giving in to instinct and muscle memory, Link shoved Dark Link away and took a quick step back, raising his sword, pointing it straight into the air. Power surged through him and in a flash of golden light, his blade began to glow, the mystical energy surging through the sacred metal causing his entire arm to vibrate.

He didn’t have time for surprise; before Dark Link could react, Link jerked his arm down and slashed his blade through the air. A golden streak blurred across his vision as through drawn by his blade, and a shockwave of pure light exploded forward in a radiant crescent. Dark Link managed to just barely raise his shield in time to block most of the blow, but the force was strong enough to send him stumbling backward with a surprised grunt.

Link stared in shock as his enemy slowly lowered his shield and took Link in with a cold, calculating glance.

“What.” Midna offered up eloquently, sounding equal parts confused and astounded.

Link had nothing to say. He had no idea where that had come from or how he had done it, but with a certainty that glowed from within, he knew he could do it again. Something… something had given him that strength, had blessed him with a new, powerful skill. Something Dark Link didn’t have, something that could tip the battle in his favor… but who? And how?

“It would seem she’s finally chosen her hero," Dark Link muttered softly, and for a moment Link almost thought he saw a triumphant grin flicker across his shadowy face.

A split-second later, Dark Link was racing towards him, his ebony blade stabbing straight for Link’s throat.

Link met him in a flash of steel, and at once the two were back at it, whirling and stabbing and blocking and dancing their blades as if nothing at all had changed from a few minutes earlier.

Only everything had changed. Blocking a thrust, Link spun back, flicking his sword upward with unnecessary flair to point the tip once more skyward, and with another surge of golden light Link felt that same mysterious energy return. With a roar, Link turned and slashed outward, firing another beam of pure light towards his enemy. 

Dark Link cursed and performed a backflip that would have set any gymnastic teacher’s heartbeat aflutter, narrowly managing to avoid the attack, but by the time he landed and got back into position, Link had already charged his second sword beam and had it hurling in Dark Link’s direction, this time towards his feet.

It struck the ground in a roar, the water evaporating into steam all around them, the strength of the blow knocking Dark Link off-balance and the additional haze clouding his vision. Link pressed the advantage, knowing that these mysterious energy beams were the key to his victory, and before Dark Link could recuperate Link sent one more beam into the mist, this one slashing upwards.

He was rewarded with a startled cry of anguish.

The steam was blown away by the force of the third blow, and as it parted, Link was rewarded with the view of Dark Link crouching down in the water, his face a mask of pain as dark blood pooled out of the stump where his right arm used to be. He’d lost his shield. It and the arm were nowhere to be seen; either carried away by the beam of light or else having simply evaporated into the air like the monsters Link had battled earlier. Either way, short one arm, missing a shield and bleeding profusely, Link now had the definitive upper hand.

Dark Link wasn’t quite ready to give up, however; with a snarl, he forced himself to his feet, swaying drunkenly as more blood oozed from his black stump, hatred and rage glowing fiercely in his red eyes, and with the cry of a madman he raced forwards, sword held high, ready to strike.

Link didn’t even have to try; injured, armless, and enraged, Dark Link was no longer the powerful threat he had been just moments earlier. With an almost disdainful strike, Link knocked Dark Link’s sword away with his shield and sunk his blade into his exposed stomach, the sacred metal tearing straight through his flesh and out through his back where it dripped black blood into the water below.

Dark Link’s weight settled against him for a moment as he seized Link’s shoulder with his remaining hand as though to steady himself, his sword falling to the floor with a clattering splash. An agonized breath slipped through his lips, brushing past Link’s ear like a whisper…

And then Link jerked the sword back out, allowing his nemesis to stumble to the floor, his dark blood staining the otherwise clear water.

Over to the side, Link saw Midna averting the orphan girl’s gaze.

For Link’s part, he felt numb. No sorrow, no guilt at taking someone’s life, no horror at the gruesome end delivered by his hand. It was over… he’d won. Dark Link was finally defeated. One less danger plagued his friends, one less obstacle between him and Tatl, one less monster to threaten the world. He’d done his duty.

And yet… that fight… The moment Link had been randomly blessed with those energy beams at just the right moment, everything had suddenly worked in Link’s favor. He wasn’t doubting his own skill, but even with that obvious advantage, Dark Link should have held out longer. Or should he have? Was Link simply giving his enemy more credit than he was worth? Was he over-thinking this? Maybe… But the Dark Link he’d just run through with his blade… didn’t feel like the same Dark Link he’d been fighting earlier. It was almost as if… he’d stopped trying. But why? Wasn’t his whole existence about killing Link? What had changed? What was different?

“ _It would seem she’s finally chosen her hero.”_

Dark Link’s body was still spasming from pain as his life’s blood seeped out of him, yet from the hatred etched onto his face as he glowered up at Link, you wouldn’t know that he was moments away from death. Kneeling down, Link wiped the blood off of his sword onto Dark Link’s pants, not at all caring that he was using his dying enemy as a rag. This shadow, this fake, this sham… he deserved no respect, no admiration. He’d taken Tatl and hurt his friends. Let him lie here and suffer.

Dark Link wasn’t content to stay silent, however, not even in his final moments.

“This isn’t over, Hero. It’ll never be over between us. No matter where you go, how far you run, how many lives you live… I’ll be there, hunting you. Try all you want, you’ll never escape. The closer you get to the light, the greater your shadow, and that’s right where I’ll always be… just one step behind…”

He laughed again, an asthmatic wheeze, his feral grin laced with pain.

Link scoffed, his patience at an end. All of this, all of the running, the fighting, the worrying… all of it was for nothing. He was no closer to finding Tatl now than he had been before, and now that his dark twin lay beaten on the ground, he wanted to waste even more of Link’s time with empty threats and meaningless banter?

He was done here. Rising to his feet, Link calmly sheathed his sword and hung his shield from his scabbard, turning his back on his fallen foe without comment and calmly heading back to Midna. He had no more words for Dark Link. He was a jaded imposter at best and a monster at worst, and he’d wasted enough time on him.

With his back turned, Link didn’t see the snarl flash across Dark Link’s face, or his hand reaching towards his fallen blade. What he did see, however, was the look of panic and rage that flashed within Midna’s eyes as she suddenly started forward, one hand slipping into her bag again, the other pointing straight at Link.

“No!”

The light dimmed. Link froze, shocked, and found himself bracing for whatever surprise blow his best friend was about to throw at him, not even questioning why she would attack him because she was Midna and she was crazy like that… only to realize a moment later that nothing had happened.

Peeking his eyes back open, Link was met with Midna’s furious gaze glowering at something behind him, her arm still outstretched. Turning slowly, Link felt his jaw drop. There, suspended in the air right behind him, was Dark Link’s sword, frozen by Midna’s magic only inches away from his back.

Dark Link sat hunched over where Link had left him, his body shuddering violently as he sneered in Link and Midna’s direction. Had he… used the last of his fading strength to hurl his sword at Link in a last-ditch effort to kill him while his back was turned? That sneaky little…!

“Heh… Witch…” Dark Link croaked, his eyes growing dim as he slowly sunk back down.

“Time’s up, Link,” Midna spat, stalking forward and shoving Link out of the way. Dark Link’s sword clattered to the ground.

Before he could do anything more than gawk, Midna withdrew her hand from her bag and three dark objects sailed forth from within its depths. They looked like broken old pieces of some kind of stone carving, and they orbited Midna’s head for a moment, spinning until they aligned themselves properly. All at once, the three pieces converged around her head, fitting in like puzzle pieces against one another and the odd helmet she was already wearing to form something that looked like a giant, deranged stone tiki mask.

Midna threw her head back and screamed, a wave of dark energy nearly knocked Link off of his feet, and in the blink of an eye Midna was gone, replaced with a giant, glowing oily creature with eight tentacle-like arms.

Link stumbled back with an emasculating shriek of terror.

The monster loomed over Dark Link, one hand poised above him as if it were going to Hulk-smash it into the floor. Dark Link’s half-lidded eyes gazed up at the creature without a hint of fear, and in one last, wheezing breath he scoffed, “Do your worst.”

A massive spear materialized in the oil-monster’s fist, and with an inhuman roar of rage the weapon was slammed down on top of Dark Link, and something that can only be described as a magical bomb exploded from where the weapon made contact, knocking Link backward and spraying him with water.

When his vision cleared and Link managed to force himself to his feet, he was surprised to see the giant monster gone. In its place was Midna, kneeling on the ground, the disparate pieces of her weird magical helmet lying in the water beside her.

Dark Link’s body was nowhere to be seen.

Link hastened to her side, worried that she’d somehow hurt herself, but at the sound of his rapidly approaching footsteps splashing behind her she turned and shot him an exhausted smile.

“Told you… I’d do it… You were too… slow…”

“Yeah, whatever,” he grumped, offering her a hand and tugging her reluctantly to her feet. "What in the sweet name of Farore was _that?!”_

“What? Oh, you mean the Fused Shadow? I swear I told you about this already… I found them with Kafei in that weird pyramid, remember?”

“Yeah, but you said you didn’t remember what it did!”

“Ok, yes, but I knew it was awesome, so whatever. Besides, where do you get off asking where I get my sweet skills from? What was up with those crazy sword beams you were shooting around? How long have you had those, huh?”

“Uh…” Link replied, scratching at the back of his head in uncertainty. “Like two minutes? I don’t really know where they came from, exactly.”

“Wow,” Midna replied, rolling her eyes with a scoff and turning to scoop up the pieces of the Fused Shadow and stuff them back into her back. “Unbelievable. You just get new powers whenever the situation demands it, don’t you? Some hero. I mean, can you say ‘Deus Ex Machina’?”

“No?” Link replied, having no idea what she was going on about. “I don’t even know what language you’re speaking right now.”

“Well, I mean, it’s just… ‘Look at me, I’m the Hero of Time! Whenever I’m in danger, some omnipotent deity just happens to grace me with whatever I need to win!’ It kind of makes the Hero of Time seem a lot less cool if you can’t lose, y’know?”

It was Link’s turn to roll his eyes.

“It wasn’t some omnipotent deity; Farore doesn’t exactly step into my life whenever things get hard. Honestly, it… I dunno. I know I’ve had that ability before, in some of my past lives, but I can’t remember where it came from…” The memory of Dark Link’s triumphant smile flickered uneasily through his mind. “The thing is, I definitely didn’t have it until-“

Until Dark Link threatened the girl.

The girl!

“Oh Din!” Link cursed, turning away from a confused Midna and racing over towards the forgotten little orphan girl who was still sitting shell-shocked on the ground. Midna let out a muffled curse of her own and hurried over behind him.

Link fell to his knees beside the small little creature who was decidedly not Tatl and felt another wave of remorse and frustration wash through him.

“Hey there,” Link started gently, reaching out and patting the younger girl’s shoulder, making her jump in fright. “Whoa! It’s ok! It’s ok! My name’s Link, and this is Midna. We’re here to help you, ok? Can you tell me what your name is?”

The tiny sandy brunette stared up at him for a moment with wide, shell-shocked eyes before murmuring softly, “It’s… I’m Ciela.”

“Ciewa?” Midna replied, crouching down on the girl’s other side, a confused look on her face.

“No, Ciela. With an ‘L’,” she responded emphatically, pronouncing the ‘L’ like a ‘W’ thanks to her speech impediment.

“Huh?”

“It’s Ciela,” Link translated, and the orphan girl beamed at him.

“Yeah, like that!”

“Huh?” Midna replied again, still looking lost.

“Listen, Ciela,” Link continued, ignoring his flabbergasted friend. “I’m friends with Tatl, and I came here to find you and the others and get you out safe and sound, ok? I know it’s been pretty scary until now, but if you stay with me and Midna, I promise we can keep you safe.”

She stared at him for a moment, her deep green eyes boring into his own.

“…You know Tatl?” she asked finally, sounding hopeful.

“Yeah, I do. And I know you live at the West Road Orphanage, too. You've been super brave, but you don't need to worry anymore; we're going to find your friends and the rest of our friends, and we're going to make sure that everybody gets out of here. Will you come with us?"

When he called her brave she flushed prettily but nodded in eager agreement when he asked if she’d join them. Extending a hand, Link pulled the little girl to her feet and turned to face the lonely island, eager to set out on their way and escape that dreary place, only to stop, stunned.

The island was gone. Everything was gone. The tree, the fog, the water under their feet… gone. Just like that, in the blink of an eye, they’d left the strange haunted reflecting pool and had returned to normalcy.

Well… They’d returned to an old, dusty storage room in what appeared to be Hyrule Castle. Presumably, this was Daphnes Nohanson’s actual secret shelter. Still, compared to where they were, this was normal enough.

“Ciela?!” a voice exclaimed animatedly from behind them.

The trio spun around, Link’s good hand moving instinctively towards his sword.

“Navi?!” Ciela replied, sounding ecstatic, and with a bubble of childish laughter the little girl tore herself from Link’s side and sprinted across the dusty room towards the source of the noise.

It was another girl, this one a few years older than Ciela and sporting short, vividly bright periwinkle hair. The two children collided in a heartwarming hug, both overcome with giggles and tears as they babbled over one another about how much they missed each other and how frightened they’d both been.

Before Link could ask where the random second orphan child had come from, a familiar figure stepped into the room.

“Sheik?!” Link and Midna exclaimed with twin surprise and delight. Link set off immediately towards his friend, but Midna was two steps ahead of him, sprinting forward with a wild, excited glint in her eye.

She practically glomped him, a full-body tackle hug that would have knocked him to the ground had he not been so used to her antics. As it was, he caught her in midair, swung her tiny body around for a moment with a snort of laughter before coming to a stop with his arms around her waist and his face buried in her neck. Link couldn’t help but smile at the sight, knowing he’d tease them about it later and trying to fend off the twinging inside that yearned for him to see Zelda again.

The two finally pulled apart after a long moment and stared into each other’s eyes for a sickeningly-sweet half-second before twin looks of disgruntled confusion flashed across their faces and they parted.

“What are you wearing?!” they blurted out in unison before cringing and taking in their own appearances, Midna her weird headdress and Sheik the full-body ninja outfit that Link only just now realized he was wearing. The thing even had the Sheikah symbol emblazoned on the front. He thought Sheik hated his ancestry; why was he wearing its symbol?

“It’s… a long story,” Sheik replied, sounding distinctly uncomfortable as he tugged at the form-fitting outfit. Link noted the bow and quiver on his back. He also had a harp in his hands, of all things. What on earth had Sheik been up to?

“Yeah, uh… me too.” If he didn’t know any better, Link would have sworn Midna’s cheeks were stained red as she adjusted her makeshift hat, averting her eyes so as to not meet her boyfriend’s gaze.

Deciding to put the awkward couple out of their misery, Link stepped forward and opened his arms.

“Sheik!”

“Link!” Sheik replied, stepping forward and catching him in a brotherly embrace. “Goddesses, you really are here! She was right! But I thought you were in jail or something!”

"Who was right?" Link asked, confused, taking a step back to include Midna in the conversation.

“Zelda,” Sheik replied, and a dark pall seemed to fall over his friend’s face.

“You were with Zelly?!” Midna exclaimed excitedly. “Well, where is she? Why didn’t she come with you?”

Sheik’s mouth worked, but he seemed hesitant to answer. Something sinister seemed to settle in the pit of Link’s stomach.

“Sheik,” he said, meeting his crimson Sheikah gaze head-on. “Tell me.”

Sheik sighed, brushing his bangs out of his eyes.

“Look, before I start explaining, just… know she’s ok, alright? I mean she’s not hurt or anything, but…”

“But?”

Sheik shuffled his feet, looking away again, and Link was surprised that it wasn’t guilt or worry that was holding his friend’s explanation back, but frustration. Sheik was mad.

“Alright, listen. I spent the last couple of hours with Zelda, and she told me all about last year. How you’re the Hero of Time and she’s the Princess of Destiny. All of it. Remember how last year, during the shooting, how she kept getting visions from the Goddess Nayru about what was going to happen?”

Link nodded, impatient. It was good that Sheik knew all about him and Zelda already; it saved him a wordy explanation.

“Well, apparently she sent her another one. To make a long story short, after we went on a bunch of quests and prayed to some altars or whatever, Zelda… I dunno. She got all serious all of a sudden and said there was something she had to do, but she… she wouldn’t tell me what it was. She said something bad was coming, and… Well, I think it involves her somehow, but she wouldn’t say how. She sealed herself in some sort of magic crystal behind a fake wall in the Temple of Time, right where the Master Sword used to be. She told me to tell you she’s waiting for you to wake her up.”

Link blinked several times as the meaning of Sheik’s words washed over him. The Goddesses sent another message… Zelda had sealed herself within a crystal… She was waiting for him… but why?

He asked Sheik as much, but his friend merely shrugged.

“I told you, I don’t know. She wouldn’t tell me, she was worried that someone might have been listening in. She told me not to worry, she said that you would know what to do, that ‘fate’ or ‘destiny’ or some nonsense would guide you. Look, man, I’ll be honest- I may not know what’s going on, but Zelda’s putting her faith in you. She says this is the greatest threat the two of you have ever faced. Like, I guess in any lifetime. Once you’ve taken care of it, I mean whatever it is, she wants you to go and wake her up.”

Sheik suddenly stepped closer, his eyes boring into Link’s own.

“Listen, I know she’s your girlfriend, and you’re the Hero of Time, and I really have no place to be saying this… but she’s my friend, and practically my sister, and she’s putting a lot of faith in you right now. So tell me you know what you need to do, because if you don’t, and you let her down…”

He let the threat hang ominously in the air.

Maybe on another day, Link might have been offended by Sheik's uncharacteristically hostile tone, but he understood where he was coming from. Had their roles been reversed and Midna was the one taking a risk based on her faith in Sheik, Link would be feeling just as protective. He may not have romantic feelings for her but that didn't mean that she didn't matter to him, just like Zelda mattered to Sheik. The four of them were close, the best of friends, and crazy legends come to life or not they would always have one another's backs.

But did Link know what he needed to do?

_The greatest threat the two of them had ever faced…_

His conversation with Auru from earlier came echoing back in his ears, and a fierce scowl slid slowly across his face.

The greatest enemy he’d ever faced, huh? There could be only one answer to that question.

Ganondorf.

He was back. He still held the Triforce of Power, and he was looking to settle the score and get his revenge on the Hero and the Princess who had thwarted him last year. He should have seen this coming sooner… but this time, Zelda had taken the preemptive action and sealed herself away so that Ganondorf couldn’t steal her Triforce piece, knowing as Link did that only the Master Sword could defeat the King of Evil. And this time, Link had the sword.

The time to end this was now.

Sheik was still waiting for an answer.

“Well?”

“Yeah… yeah, I know exactly what has to be done.”

“Alright,” his friend replied, looking relieved and slapping him bracingly on the shoulder. “Well then, let’s get our stuff in order and get this taken care of-“

“You can’t come with me,” Link cut in just as Sheik and Midna made as though to walk off.

“What?” Midna asked, looking startled, but from the look of resignation and barely restrained anger in Sheik’s eyes, he knew Link was going to say that.

“Zelda said as much,” Sheik replied stiffly. “She seems to think that the two of you can do this all on your own.”

“This isn’t a matter of pride, Sheik; my weapon is the only thing that will work-“

“So what, we’re just supposed to sit here while you go off and risk your life? Who do you think we are?”

“Don’t be dumb,” Link interrupted sternly, “Or did you forget that we’ve got more at stake here?”

He pointed over his shoulder towards the two little girls who were still enthralled in their own personal conversation.

Sheik regarded them for a moment before turning back to Link in confusion.

“Listen- there’s more going on then I think either of us understands. Yes, I have to go off and have some crazy showdown so I can save Zelda and probably the world, but I can't do that and look after these little girls at the same time, even if you two do come with me. Besides, there are still other missing kids lost in this museum somewhere who need help right now, along with the rest of our friends. And even though Midna and I took care of Dark Link-"

“Who?”

“Link’s evil twin. He was a douche.”

“-there’s still Ghirahim and that boy with Majora’s Mask that we have to deal with. It doesn’t make sense for us to go together when there’s still so much that needs to be done.”

He could tell that his argument had gotten through to Sheik, but he could still see the resistance in his eyes.

“Look, Link-“

“Sheik, little kids could be in danger right now. Aryll could be in danger right now. Tatl could be in danger right now.”

“Who’s Tatl?”

“Midna can fill you in later, the point is, the only way I could ever not be there for them is if I knew that you two would be. Look, I have to go and do this, for Zelda, for the world, but that doesn’t mean that the others aren’t still in danger. Sheik, please. They need you.”

Sheik literally growled in frustration, turning away and kicking fitfully at the ground as he cracked his fingers in agitation. Finally, he turned back to Link and Midna and muttered bitterly, “You’re right. You’re right, you’re right, you’re right… but Link, if you do anything to get yourself or Zelda killed, just know that I’ll torment you forever in the afterlife. I’m the Sage of Shadow now, I can do that.”

“Thanks, man,” Link replied, pulling Sheik in for another bro-hug and inwardly wondering what in the world a Sage of Shadow was. It sounded vaguely familiar.

When he pulled back, Midna was quick to jump in and claim a hug of her own.

“Be safe,” she whispered, sounding strangely emotional, only when he pulled away she fixed him with a deadly glare and continued, “Seriously. If you let Zelda down, I’ll kill you. You know I can, too; I just did it like five minutes ago, I can do it again.”

“I had already beaten him!” Link exclaimed indignantly. She merely rolled her eyes as if to say, ‘ _sure ya did…_ ’

Deciding he’d had enough of her teasing him to last him the next good while, he turned back to Sheik and asked, impatient, “Alright, so how am I supposed to wake her up if she’s in some big magic crystal?”

“Oh right,” Sheik replied, looking embarrassed that he’d forgotten. “You gotta play this song… She gave me this harp so I could teach it to you. Don’t worry, it’s not hard, I’ll just…”

He struggled with the golden instrument for a second, getting his fingers into place and testing a few of the strings.

“Ok… Ok, wait… Right, I got it. It’s only a few notes, so pay attention; I’ll go slow.”

“Wait, hold up!” Link blurted out, looking at the harp as if it were a dangerous object.

“What?”

“I don’t know how to play the harp!”

“Neither do I!” Sheik exclaimed. “So what? Just pluck these strings in order and you’re good!”

“What, can’t I, like, sing it instead?”

“Dude, come on… You know you can’t sing.”

“Fair. Can I whistle it instead?”

“Uh… Actually, I dunno-“

“Alright, stop," Midna cut in in a bored tone. "You two are impossible. Look, Link, just… use this."

And with a flourish, she drew forth from the depths of her bag a small, ceramic instrument that looked like a cross between a flute and a potato.

“What in the name of Tingle the Hobo is that?” Sheik deadpanned.

“The Ocarina of Time, which you would know if you paid attention yesterday at the museum,” she replied, sounding smug. “It belonged to Link in a past life, which means he probably already knows how to play it. He can just play the song on this.”

Sheik snorted. “What? That’s not how this works. He can’t just know how to do something because he learned it like two thousand years ago-“

“Puh-lease,” Midna replied as Link plucked the instrument from her hands and examined it curiously. “You clearly don’t know the Hero of Time as well as I do. He can do all kinds of stupid things he shouldn’t be able to do for nonsensical reasons. It’s like phlebotinum rules his life.”

“What rules his life?”

Link placed the mouthpiece against his lips and blew, moving his fingers around instinctively. At first, all that came out was discordant shrieking, but after a few seconds, he was able to seamlessly play 'Mary had a Little Lamb' without any difficulty. 

“You said the song wasn’t very hard, right?” Link asked, glancing up at Sheik who was busy scowling at Midna who was giving him the most obnoxious ‘I told you so’ look of all-time.

“…No, it’s not. If you played that ok, you should be fine. Just don’t forget it, alright?”

“Cool. Go ahead and teach it to me.”

They ran over it several times until he could play it flawlessly from memory. He didn't know what it was, but it sounded familiar, and for some reason reminded him of Zelda. Probably because he had to play it to rescue her later. Right, that made sense… he was just being dumb.

Ciela and Navi drifted over to hear his playing and clapped loudly when Sheik pronounced his playing ‘passable’.

“For real, though- don’t forget it. You need that song to wake Zelda up. If she gets trapped in that crystal forever because you’re an idiot-“

“Sheik, I got it. It’s ok. We need to get a move on.”

Farewell hugs were exchanged once again, then it was time to explain the change of plans to Ciela and Navi. Though Ciela seemed hesitant to leave Link’s side and go off with some strange new male, being with Navi seemed to ease her tension quite a bit. Still, the adorable little kid couldn’t resist giving him one last thank-you hug before setting off hand-in-hand with her friend.

Sheik and Midna exchanged good lucks with him before setting off down the hall and back towards Daphnes’ study. The last thing he heard before they vanished was Midna asking, “How exactly did you find us anyway?”

He would let them worry about that. For all he knew, if he beat Ganondorf, maybe Ghirahim and the kid with Majora’s Mask would give up and leave, and everything would go back to normal and they wouldn’t have to worry about saving anyone anyway. Wishful thinking, sure, but hey, one could dream…

 _Dream on your own time,_ he told himself sternly, gathering his wits about him and preparing for what lay ahead. Ganondorf… One more showdown, just as destiny had planned it, and this time would be the last time he had to lay eyes on his ugly mug, at least in this life.

_I’m on my way, Zel. Hold tight._

Determination emboldening his footsteps, Link headed off down the hallway. He wasn’t quite sure where he was going, but he knew that the Goddesses would direct his path. His destiny would ensure they he found his mark. The Triforce wanted to reunite, after all. If he looked long enough, he was bound to run into the man sooner or later.

Following his gut, Link headed on.


	30. Fate

“Alright, alright! Everyone, just calm down for a second!”

As should have probably been expected, Sheik’s loud, authoritative shout was completely ignored by his gaggle of animated friends.

“Kafei, that cape is so stylish-!”

“No, for real, it splits me into four people-!”

“And then he was all like, ‘Boom! Froosh! Shah-wheeewww!’ _And then the dragon exploded!_ ’

It was like he was a substitute teacher facing his first group of rowdy sixth-graders, none of whom paid him any attention whatsoever. Finally reunited after a night of horrors, Sheik’s friends and the orphans were alive with joy and excitement, and it was hard to get a word in edgewise over their excitable babble.

Finally having food was only making getting control of the situation worse, somehow. Someone must have stumbled across the vending machines at some point because in the center of the group was a pile of candy bars, granola, poptarts, assorted candies, sodas, bottles of water, and energy drinks. Not exactly healthy eating, but considering how most of them hadn’t eaten in nearly a full day, it was mana from heaven. Sheik wasn’t made of stone; he was excited to see everyone and the food too. He’d crammed three Snickers into his mouth the moment he saw the pile. He just needed everyone to shut up for a minute so they could talk.

“You’re probably going to have to speak a little louder there, hun,” Midna snickered, patting her boyfriend consolingly on the arm, though from the amusement dancing in her one visible eye she was clearly getting a kick out of his frustration.

And he was frustrated. Oh sure, he was glad to be back in the company of his friends again, but unlike the rest of his overly-excitable companions, he seemed to be the only one who remembered that they were all still in danger. Worse, Zelda had put her life on the line on the bet that Link could save the day all on his lonesome, and even knowing that they were the Princess of Destiny and the Hero of Time reincarnate didn’t help to ease the nagging worry that was eating away at his heart. They were his friends, his family- he wanted to help, too. Only how could he when he wasn’t even sure what was going on?

Zelda’s warning that they were up against the ‘greatest threat they’d ever faced’ once again had him anxious in more ways than one. What if it was Ganondorf? What if he was back to torment Sheik and his friends all over again? Granted, when he’d asked Zelda earlier if it was him she seemed to indicate that it was not, and Link hadn’t said anything about who he was off to fight. If Ganondorf really was the King of Thieves reborn, then it had to be him… right? Who could be a greater threat to Link and Zelda than him?

And aside from all that, Link had been right earlier to remind Sheik that there was more at stake than just Zelda’s safety; what good would helping her and Link be if the orphans and the rest of their friends got killed in the process? With that in mind, and still hoping to help Link and Zelda out somehow, he and Midna had set off immediately to find the others, trusting in Navi to guide them the same way she’d been guiding them the entire time.

He’d honestly expected this process to last him a good long while; there were so many of them lost throughout the museum, and even though he’d been there all night he hadn’t seen a single person aside from Zelda and Navi until about five minutes ago. Honestly, considering how large the museum had become with all these smaller worlds stitched together and the maze-like quality it had been given thanks to Majora’s Mask, it was possible he could be at this for the rest of the day. Link and Zelda would likely be done with whatever they were doing long before he managed to round everyone up…

Or so he’d thought. Five minutes into their search, the group had turned a corner and had unexpectedly stumbled right into them. All of them, in one place. Easy as that; one minute they’re lost, and the next they’re all together, neat and tidy in one location.

He didn’t trust it.

Seriously, the likelihood of that happening naturally was about one in a billion, even with Navi guiding him. That he just happened to stumble upon Colin and Aryll, Linebeck and Ralph and Kafei along with the rest of the missing orphans (sans Tatl, who was suspiciously absent) right when he started looking for them was enough to strain his disbelief to the max. Something was going on. Somebody wanted him to find his friends quickly.

The only question was, why?

“Alright, alright, alright! That’s enough!” Midna shouted, finally giving in to the desperate look on Sheik’s face begging for assistance, and at once the cacophony of eager chattering voices died. Sheik rolled his eyes; oh sure, they listen to her, but when he talks? Nothing.

“Listen up, now that we have you all together, we’re not going to split up again. Whatever bad junk that’s been happening to us is coming to a head, and Link has gone off to face it alone-“

“He what?!” Aryll cut in, looking horrified. To Sheik’s surprise, when Colin reached out to put a comforting hand on her shoulder, she didn’t immediately shrug off.

“Aryll, it’s ok-“ Midna tried to say soothingly, but Aryll ran her over.

“No, it is not ok! This museum is crazy dangerous, how could you let him go off alone?! We need to go, we need to help him-!”

"Yes, we do," Sheik cut in, trying his best to sound confident, "but we can't do that until we know what's going on, and besides; we have little kids to think about."

All eyes moved to the cluster of five orphans who stood together in the middle of the group, pale-faced and filthy from enduring a night of nightmares-made-real. Navi was clearly the oldest, but the rest were around her age, the youngest no more than four or five. A pudgy, dark-haired boy turned his dark eyes on Sheik in the brief silence that had claimed the group and mumbled, "Um… I… W-where's my sister?"

Sheik hesitated, unsure how to answer, but was thankfully saved by Kafei who knelt down by the smaller boy’s side and wrapped a comforting arm around his shoulders (looking ridiculous as he did so in his blue-and-white cape, his enormous pink sword at his side… then again, Sheik had no room to talk. Seriously though, where did Kafei even come from?!)

“Don’t worry, Tael,” the purple-haired man whispered bracingly, “We’ll find Tatl and get you both out of here safe and sound, ok? Just hold on a little longer.”

“Listen,” Ralph butt in, sounding so uncharacteristically serious that Sheik had to do a double-take to make sure he was really the one talking, “I wish to be of use to Link as well, but we cannot all go rushing to his defense with these children in tow. I will not allow Leaf or the others to come to danger because we succumbed to a vain desire for glory.”

“The Runt’s right,” Linebeck added, also looking at Ralph askance as though he were unsure who he was standing next to; the portly ex-janitor carried a scepter-like rod of all things and seemed to have lost his white button-up shirt sometime over the course of the night, “Maybe we should find a safe place to stash the rugrats and leave a couple of us to watch over them and keep them safe before the rest go gallivanting off to help the Kid.”

“Is anywhere in this museum safe?” Colin asked, looking odd with one of the sleeves of his white shirt torn off.

“Yes," Sheik replied, jumping into the conversation again. “We can leave them in the temple where Zelda’s sleeping.”

“Zelda’s sleeping?”

“What a lazy butt!”

“Guys! Really! We don’t have time for this, just... Y’know what, why don’t I just show you? It’s not that far. Follow me and I’ll take you there, alright? Navi, stay by me, I need you to lead the way.”

And without further discussion, Sheik and Navi forged ahead, ignoring the other’s pestering questions as they struggled to keep up, already feeling a headache start to form. This day had gone on long enough, and the sooner he got to Link, the sooner it would be over. First things first, however; drop the kids and some of the others off at the Temple of Time to wait for them, and then he could be off to help Link. The end was in sight, he just needed to push on.

Glancing over his shoulder, he noticed Midna biting her lip behind him, a pensive frown on her face.

“Everything ok?” he asked tersely, most of his attention focused on what lay ahead.

“Yeah…” she mumbled, scratching absently at her arm as they trudged through the museum hallway. “It’s just… I dunno, I feel like I’m forgetting something really important… Like, something really, really obvious, y’know? I just… don’t know what it is.”

Sheik grunted but didn’t reply, focusing on their path ahead and waiting for the moment when reality inevitably shifted all around them. Desperate as he was to get to Link, he hadn’t forgotten how easy it had been to find everyone. He was playing into someone’s game, he knew that… He just couldn’t see how…

Behind them, unnoticed by the group, a figured giggled in the shadows.

* * *

For some reason, after wandering through so many strange, twisted worlds and running around outside all night as a glorified dog, something as normal as the sound of the air conditioner droning somewhere above him suddenly seemed unnatural. Seriously, after everything he’d been through that day, it was odd that something as banal as air conditioning could be the thing that was throwing him off. The cold air blowing gently from an overhead vent passed over him and goosebumps broke out all over his arms. Seriously, he needed to get ahold of himself.

Regardless, he was grateful to have something normal to focus on other than the fate of his friends and the battle that lay before him. Sheik’s words kept echoing in Link’s ears, reminding him of Zelda’s sacrifice and the duty that she had handed to him, trusting in him to see it through.

The greatest threat they had ever faced… Ganondorf. It was Ganondorf. It had to be. Who else was there? Who else aside from him had ever been a major threat to them? It was as simple as that.

Only… doubt picked away at Link’s heart the more time he spent trudging through the silent museum hallway, following the vague sense of dark-foreboding in his gut. If it really was Ganondorf he was facing, why hadn’t Zelda just said his name? Why would she be so intentionally cryptic about it all? And if it was him, then… where had he been all day? Why hadn’t Link seen or heard him? And why bother bringing Link’s friends and the orphans all here together?

Then again, maybe Link was thinking about this too hard. It was entirely possible that Zelda didn’t say his name because she didn’t want Sheik to know that Ganondorf was there, keeping in mind Sheik’s past history with the guy. She was probably just trying to spare his feelings, or stop him from freaking out about the King of Thieves being alive and in possession of the Triforce of Power. As for his friends, he was probably out for revenge on those who had thwarted his plans last year. This was the anniversary of the shooting, after all. What better time than now?

And the orphans? Well…

He had no idea.

Still. Just because Link couldn’t see his plans didn’t mean that he didn’t have them. Link knew his enemy, knew that Ganondorf would be there. He could feel it in his heart. The greatest threat he’d ever faced… and he was facing it once more. For Zelda, for his friends…

He would deal with the rest when it came.

Glancing upwards, Link was surprised to find himself already arriving at his destination. The one previously closed section of the museum, the part that Auru had said he was most excited to see. The exhibit on the King of Thieves. If Ganondorf was anywhere, he’d be here, and by the sense of doom in Link’s gut and the way his Triforce twinged on the back of his hand, Link knew he was close.

Taking a deep breath, Link reached out and pushed open the door, surprised to find it wasn’t locked.

The room itself was large and darkly colored, peppered with recreations of desert-style houses and banners from age-old wars. Overhead, against the far wall, was painted a massive mural of a wicked-looking pig-man who sneered down at them all like a pudgy cartoon villain.

Link ignored most of the displays, however; walking further into the room, his eyes slid past dioramas and descriptive stalls of battles and old legends, paintings and spells, the sense of foreboding growing to a crescendo in his chest until he passed a low-lying wall and turned. His eyes were drawn immediately to the stand in the exact center of the room, ringed with red partitions, clearly meant to hold an item of great importance, the item Auru hinted at being the reason for the delay in the room’s opening to the public.

A stand that was now empty.

And the person who stood beside it.

Ganondorf.

He was standing alone in the center of the room, garbed in a plain white V-neck t-shirt and a pair of faded jeans. Heavy, weathered boots covered his feet, a large buckle held up his pants, and on his deltoid, he had tattooed himself with the ancient mark of the Gerudo. Wherever he’d been since last year, his skin had only grown darker, his heavily-muscled arms showing if nothing else that he hadn’t been idle in his absence.

In his hands he hefted something that he’d apparently just removed from its display the moment Link walked into the room; a massive golden trident, the handle wrapped in dark leather and the blade adorned with fat, red rubies. Link recognized the weapon from his studies, though he hadn’t seen it in his tour of the museum as the room they were in was closed the day before; it was Ganondorf’s infamous weapon, the Trident of Power. But how was it here?! How did anyone find it?! Or was this another trick of the masked boy’s powers?

The sound of Link’s muffled footsteps caught Ganondorf’s attention, and he lifted his gaze off the prize in his hands, his eyes glowing with greed, to glance in Link’s direction.

For a moment, Link thought he saw surprise flicker across his face, only to be replaced by a sinister grin.

“Hero,” he intoned darkly, stepping away from the now-empty display with casual indifference.

Something murderous crept up in Link’s heart.

“Ganondorf,” he spat in response, feeling his lip curl upwards in a contemptuous snarl.

“You’re unusually timely today. Eager for death?”

“You…” Link rasped, feeling his body begin to quake as pure hatred for the man before him began surging through his body. “You did this. You kidnapped my friends, you endangered those orphans, you orchestrated my arrest, turned this museum into a carnival of death, all of it… All of it just for this moment. Why?! Tell me why, Ganondorf!”

Ganondorf’s golden eyes seemed to flicker in the half-light as he casually examined the trident in his hands, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

Finally, the larger boy lifted his gaze until it met Link’s own.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Hero,” he said simply.

Link snarled. “Don’t play dumb with me, Ganondorf.”

“It doesn’t matter,” he continued as though not hearing Link speak. “One way or another, I have you here at my mercy just as destiny intended. Both of us have awoken, we know who we are, we know why we fight. The Triforce will be reunited, my purpose will be fulfilled. It doesn’t matter what path I must walk so long as the outcome is assured. Come, Hero. You have your weapon; I have mine. Show me you’re worthy of the mark you bear. Show me your courage!”

And without further preamble, Ganondorf was surging forward, body low, Trident held out behind him like a spear.

Offering a quick prayer to the Goddesses, Link ran to meet him, shield held high, sword aloft, ready to finally put an end to his and his friends’ suffering.

The two Goddess-blessed males met in the center of the room with a roar and the clang of metal-on-metal.

Two things became immediately apparent to Link as he exchanged blows with his mortal enemy. First, Ganondorf’s Trident provided him with the tremendous advantage of extra reach, the weapon being a good five-feet long, and with his immense strength Ganondorf was capable of whirling the heavy polearm around with astounding speed, performing lightning-fast jabs and slashes that no normal mortal would have been able to achieve without years of training and incredibly endurance.

Ganondorf stabbed and twirled, slashed and spun his weapon around his body so quickly that if Link hadn’t been focusing so intently, he would have been skewered like a pig two seconds into the battle.

As it was, the second thing Link realized was that the shield he’d picked up from the ghost of King Daphnes was literally saving his life. If he’d been only equipped with his sword, Link wouldn’t have had a prayer of surviving against Ganondorf and his newfound weapon.

Absurdly sturdy shield in tow, however, Link was capable of deflecting the majority of Ganondorf’s blows with minimal movement, either dodging the rest or deflecting with his sword. Much like with his battle against Dark Link, Link’s skills were immediately put to the test, but though the battle was fast-paced and heart-stoppingly intense, he was holding his own. For now, at the very least.

He couldn’t say the same about the room they were in, however. The exhibit on the King of Thieves was filled with complex dioramas of ancient Gerudo culture, painstakingly crafted murals of ancient symbols and legends, and life-sized theoretical models of various monsters. The room was one giant ode to Ganondorf’s various incarnations, and as the battle between Link and Ganondorf waged on, the room was torn to shreds with all the zealous indifference that only the King of Thieves could possess.

Link dodged, and a display case was shattered. Dove to the side and a table full of miniature Gerudo houses was crushed. Lashed out with his own sword, and a faux-moblin was beheaded indiscriminately. Link and Ganondorf were a whirlwind of death that left nothing standing in their wake, and the museum was paying the price.

All throughout their hectic battle, Ganondorf’s grin only grew more pronounced.

“Yes, Hero!” he finally cried out, driving Link back momentarily with a wild swing of his Trident. “Yes! This is it, our glorious moment! Last year was but a prelude to this! Come at me with all the courage you possess and watch as I crush you and leave your pitiful corpse bleeding out on the floor!”

“Your still as sick as ever I see,” Link deadpanned, his chest heaving.

With a bark of dark, enlivened laughter, Ganondorf brought his weapon to the ready and rushed to close the distance once more, eager to be back to the fighting, a maniacal light dancing in his eyes.

It happened in a heartbeat; between one step and the next, the museum around them changed.

All at once Link and Ganondorf found themselves within a large, opulent chamber. Reddish-brown floor tiles crossed the length of the room, lined with heavy metal torch brackets alive with orange flames. The ceiling was high and domed, the cracked and desiccated remains of what might have once been a mural still clinging to the ancient stone. On one wall was a pair of heavy, cast-iron doors, and on the opposite wall was carved what looked to be a massive pig-faced being clutching the Triforce in either clawed hand. The Triforce was also emblazoned across the ground on a field of green.

Something about this place was… familiar. He’d been here before. Not in a past life, but in this one. He knew it somehow, but from where…?

It was Ganondorf who answered that question for him. Surprise flashed through his eyes for a moment as he and Link allowed for a brief respite in their battle to take in their new change in scenery.

“Hnn,” he grunted, looking unimpressed. “Powerful dark magic, but still nothing compared to the Triforce. The fools squabble over baubles, not knowing that the true treasure lies before them.”

He turned his sinister gaze back to Link and smirked.

“Well, Hero? Feeling nostalgic? Almost a year to the day since last I saw you here.”

Link blinked, not understanding.

“What are you talking about?”

“What? Don’t tell me you forgot our little scuffle last year at the top of that cursed school?”

Link opened his mouth to ask what he was on about, then gaped in stupefaction as the realization hit him. Of course! Last year, in his battle with Ganondorf in Sahasralah's office, he'd suffered from a number of flashbacks to previous lives! That was where he'd seen this room before! Only…

“Y-you saw those too?!” Link gawked, suddenly floored.

“What? You think you are the only one blessed by the Goddesses? The only one allowed to view those memories? They belong to me as well, Hero. And here, at the sight of one of our greatest battles, I shall end you once and for all, and claim once again what is rightfully mine!”

And without warning, Ganondorf turned and hurled his Trident in Link’s direction.

The weapon spun through the air with alarming speed and accuracy. With a yelp, Link dove to the side, narrowly avoiding the lethal projectile. He felt it brush his hair as it whizzed by harmlessly overhead.

Hardly daring to believe his luck, that Ganondorf would be foolish enough to give up his weapon to make an attempt at a surprise attack, Link hastily clambered to his feet with every intention of closing the distance between him and his foe and putting an end to this madness then and there, only the sinister smile had yet to leave Ganondorf’s face. Before Link could make it two steps, the Trident came whirling back around like a boomerang, catching Link on the arm, slicing into his flesh as it returned to its master’s hand.

Link cried out in pain but kept his grip on his shield. Hot blood was now dripping down his injured appendage, but he paid it no heed as he glared at Ganondorf and his rival grinned back with savage approval.

“What’s the matter, Hero?” he chuckled mirthlessly. “Did I catch you off-guard?”

“You’re not the only one with tricks, Ganondorf,” Link snarled in response.

“Oh, I don’t doubt it,” Ganondorf replied with a deep belly laugh. “However, I also don’t doubt that mine are better.”

The only warning Link had was his every hair on his body standing on end. He barely managed to hunker down behind his shield when Ganondorf let out a roar and hurled his free-arm forward, fingers extended like claws. With a deafening bang and a blinding flash of light, Ganondorf literally hurled lightning in Link’s direction, and the Hero was blown backward as an explosion rocked the building.

When Link came to, he was lying flat on his back on the cold floor tiles. Miraculously, he was alive, though a little sore. How in the world had his shield stopped that? It absorbed that lightning like nobody’s business. Without it, Link would definitely be barbecued right now.

Ganondorf was laughing outright as Link climbed painfully to his feet.

“Excellent! You still live! Perhaps you’re not quite as pathetic as I thought you were!”

With a feral growl, Link hefted his shield and surged forward, eager to restart the fight and prevent Ganondorf from unleashing another lightning strike; he wasn’t sure he’d be able to block the next one.

Halfway to him, the world around them changed once again, and suddenly Link found himself in the middle of an opulent throne room, a massive gilded chair on one end, a heavy chandelier up above and green and yellow filigree on the floor tiles. Link didn’t stop to admire the scenery this time, however; with a roar of rage and hate, he hefted his Goddess-given blade and lashed out at the King of Thieves, desperate to end it.

They blocked and parried, stabbed and slashed, weaving their way across the empty throne room. Despite his bulk, Ganondorf was quick and agile, always ready with a strike when he thought Link was open, always ready to defend when Link made to exploit an opportunity. Sweat was pouring down Link’s body now, but he was delighted to see it glistening on Ganondorf’s face as well. He was pushing him… now if only he could seize the upper-hand…

Ganondorf unleashed a series of staccato stabs that were all blocked by Link’s shield, but his eyes narrowed as he noticed the way Link kept his sword pointed upward behind him. For a moment, it seemed to flash in the dim light of the chandelier overhead before Link brought the blade slashing forward with a roar, and without warning, a wave of golden energy exploded out of the blade as if drawn through the air, slamming into Ganondorf’s chest and forcing him backward with a gasp of pain.

The smile had finally left his face, replaced with a gaunt sneer. The front of Ganondorf’s white t-shirt had been torn open, revealing a thin, red cut across his muscular chest right where the attack had hit him. Though he’d landed the blow, Link couldn’t help but frown. That attack ought to have done a lot more damage… the Triforce of Power must make Ganondorf a lot more resilient than he’d thought.

Ganondorf wasn’t pleased with the sudden turn of events either.

“Well now,” he intoned darkly, glaring up at his enemy. “You do have some surprises after all.”

Link sensed the change in tone not a moment too soon.

With a roar, Ganondorf jerked his arm forward as if hurling a baseball, and an orb of purple energy came flying straight for Link’s face.

With a startled cry, Link brought his shield up to block the hit and the ball of dark magic was sent hurling upwards at an odd angle, glancing off the shield, and struck the chandelier overhead, plunging the room into semi-darkness.

Ganondorf closed the gap between them in a heartbeat, and Link barely had time to parry the strike that would have impaled him before the two were at it once more, exchanging blows in the semi-darkness, faces tight with concentration and hate, golden Triforce markings glowing brilliantly on the backs of their hands.

Between one step and the next, the room changed once more, and the duo were suddenly engulfed amidst a torrential downpour, rain and wind buffeting them on every side, feet sloshing through puddles on the uneven ground as they fought for superiority.

Link remembered this place, too. He’d seen it last year as well, though he couldn’t remember from what life this battle hailed or where it was. The rain that hit them was thick and fast, heavy with the unexpected tang of salt, yet the edges of the platform might as well have been encased in walls of water. It literally looked like the two were fighting on a rooftop surrounded by waterfalls on all-sides that extended from the heavens above. To fall off here would be tantamount to being sucked into the water and washed away, and who knew where the water led? It might not even lead anywhere at all.

At the same moment, Ganondorf fired off another energy ball just as Link shot one of his sword beams, and the two collided in the air with an explosion that resulted in a momentary cloud of steam that vanished almost instantly in the wind and rain.

The water stung Link’s arms like needles, soaking through his shirt and khakis, making his toes slosh in his shoes, but he paid it no mind. This fight was only going to drag on, from locale to locale, until one of them could end it. He didn’t know how many more tricks Ganondorf had up his sleeves, but knowing him, it was possible there could be many, many more… and all Link had were those energy beams. His best bet was to press close-combat and wait for an opening for a strike.

It wouldn’t be easy; Ganondorf was no push-over and had him beat in terms of pure, raw strength, but Link had his own strength- he’d never give up, not so long as his friends needed him. And until Ganondorf was dealt with, Zelda wouldn’t be able to wake up. The sooner he beat him, the better.

“What’s the matter?” Ganondorf taunted as the sky overhead rumbled with thunder. “Intimidated by my display of Power?”

“Oh, please,” Link scoffed casting about for a condescending remark as he took advantage of the moment to catch his breath. “I don’t even think you know what true power is, Ganondorf.”

“Well then, why don’t we compare?” he offered, taking a ready stance. "Your so-called 'power' against my own?"

Link racked his brains for a clever response, but couldn’t think of one. Mentally shrugging, he gathered up his courage and raced forward, footsteps splashing heavily in the puddles below him, sword flashing low.

Ganondorf stepped back with a smirk, eyes glowing malevolently as he brought his Trident back in the beginnings of a parry…

…and froze, his eyes growing wide with shock as his body gave an odd jerk, almost as though his foot had struck something behind him and cost him his balance.

Before he could recover, Link’s blade tore through Ganondorf’s gut.

The shock that flashed across Ganondorf’s face was mirrored on Link’s own as sticky, warm blood dribbled down his fingers and wrist, dripping onto the already sodden floor. Lightning flashed somewhere overhead as Ganondorf stumbled backward, the hilt of the Master Sword slipping through Link’s blood-slick fingers as he went. The Trident tumbled from Ganondorf’s limp grip as he brought his hands together to the place that Link’s weapon remained lodged in his intestines, heavy fingers grasping fitfully at the base of the blade, his white shirt now stained a dark, ghastly red.

He looked up, the larger boy’s golden eyes meeting Link’s own wide cerulean gaze with equal parts surprise and… annoyance?

Before Link could do or say anything else, Ganondorf let out a gasp and toppled over backward, his upper-half caught in the veritable waterfall just off the edge of the roof, and with a wet splash, Link’s greatest foe was sucked off the edge, drowned in a cascade of water.

Link was numb with disbelief. Sure, he’d come there to fight Ganondorf, to kill him… but something about this felt wrong.

What had happened? Why had his nemesis frozen and allowed Link's blade to pierce him so easily? Had he stumbled? Caught his foot on a crack on the uneven roof? Slipped in the rainwater? No, Ganondorf was too good for such a rookie mistake… or was he? The King of Evil was terrible and cunning, but he wasn't perfect. Even he made mistakes. Was that what this was? A simple mistake that led to Ganondorf's untimely undoing? Was Link giving his enemy too much credit, or was he right to be distrustful at the apparent ease with which he had defeated him…?

Something clicked suddenly in Link’s head and a wave of panic stole over him. The Master Sword! It had still been lodged in Ganondorf’s stomach when he’d toppled over the edge of the platform! It was lost now somewhere beyond that endless cascade of water! He needed to do something, to find it, before it was lost forever-!

A familiar giggle sounded out over the rain, cutting through Link’s thoughts like a jagged knife. 

“Well well, Hero. Not bad. And here I didn’t think you had it in you to be so merciless…”

Link snarled, hefting his shield defensively as he whirled about, searching for the source of the voice even as he squinted through the howling wind and rain.

“Ghirahim… where are you?! Show yourself!”

He hadn’t expected the mysterious villain to respond, merely shouting it out because it was the sort of thing heroic people were supposed to say in these sorts of situations, but to his surprise, the white-haired, bespangled man materialized with a crack of dark magic only a few feet away from him.

His cold red eyes examined Link with poorly contained glee, a sadistic twist to his lips.

“And so we meet again…”

He licked his lips. Oddly, though Link was soaked through to the bone, the elements didn’t seem to be touching Ghirahim at all.

Finding himself facing a second adversary, this time while he was without a weapon, Link felt suddenly on edge. Whether Ganondorf had actually kicked the bucket or if this was some crazy, suicidal plan of his to rid Link of his weapon, Link didn't know; what he did know was that he was in no position to start up a second duel while his other enemy and his sacred weapon were both MIA. He would either need to find his weapon or flee to regroup, but whatever he did he needed to make up his mind, fast.

When Link didn’t immediately reply to Ghirahim, the strangely dressed mystery man let out a disappointed sigh and flicked some of the hair out of his eyes, looking bored.

“Really, Hero? I go through all of that and don’t even get a response? Honestly, I don’t recall you being so rude before-“

“Yeah, well, I don’t remember asking for your opinion,” Link snapped, cutting the other man off. Anxiety and apprehension were coursing through his muscles like electricity, only without a weapon Link had no way to let all that pent-up energy out. “You mind telling me what you’re doing here?”

“Why, I merely came to give you a little heads up,” Ghirahim replied with an indifferent shrug, turning his face away with exaggerated nonchalance though he kept one eye trained on Link at all times. “What else are old friends for, after all?”

“We’re not friends.” Link growled, eliciting an amused chuckle from Ghirahim.

“Well, certainly not as good as you and that other fellow you were playing with just now. I confess, Hero, watching you getting all hot and bothered, battling to the death with another man… I’m a little jealous. Though watching you dispose of him in such a ruthless manner was a rather titillating experience. I should thank you for the show; I haven’t been this excited in millennia-“

“Get to the point!” Link cut in loudly, tightening his grip on his shield.

“Have you seen your little princess lately?”

Cold fear settled in over Link’s heart.

“What did you do to her?” Link’s voice grated heavily against his ears. He sounded like a different person, even to himself.

“Me?” Ghirahim asked, placing a hand on his chest in an affronted manner. “I assure you, Hero, I’ve done nothing to the girl. I can, however, guarantee that something rather terrible is about to befall her. While you’ve been tottering away here with that boar of a man, you’ve left her all alone and defenseless. Her, and those other friends of yours as well. If you want to save them, you’d better get a move on.”

“Save them from what?!” Link blurted out hastily as the other man turned to leave.

“Well, I can’t just give away all of the surprises, can I?” Ghirahim tittered, flashing Link a sumptuous wink. “If you want to know, go and see for yourself. Oh, but you really should hurry… I hate to think of what might be happening to her in your absence. I can’t imagine how you’d feel knowing her blood was on your hands…”

And with a dark laugh, Ghirahim was gone.

Link stood rooted to the spot, his mind whirling. Zelda was in danger… but, hadn’t Sheik told him that she’d sealed herself within a magical crystal for the express purpose of keeping herself safe? Had her plan somehow failed, or… or was this some sort of clever trap meant to destroy them both? And if it was a trap, whose was it? Zelda’s message had been about their greatest foe, but Link had already seen to Ganondorf… or had he? Was this all part of some larger plan Ganondorf had concocted that Link simply couldn’t see?

But if so, and if Ghirahim was in on it… then why did he stand by and let Ganondorf get impaled by Link’s sword? That didn’t make any sense… unless…

Unless the two weren't working together. Unless the two had different plans. Ganondorf and Ghirahim were working against each other to steal the Triforce for themselves. If that were the case, then Ghirahim would have every reason to stand back and let Link take out his competition. And where did Majora's Mask fit into all of this? And Dark Link? Were they working together? Were they all independent? Did they even know?

His sword… a twinge of guilt tore through him when he remembered the Goddess Farore’s message there at the end of the shooting last year. Find his other half… he would need it for what he was to face.

Yet, hadn’t he already faced it? If Ganondorf was really dead, did it matter where the Master Sword was? If he was really and truly out of the picture, couldn’t Link let it be?

The answer to that was no. The Master Sword was a part of him, and though she may be strange, Link didn’t like to think of the robotic, almost impersonal and incredibly socially awkward Fi lost forever at the bottom of the ocean or whatever lay behind the ravaging torrents of water that poured down around him on every side. He needed his blade in his hand, no matter what dangers he was liable to face. No matter what it took, he was going to get his sword back.

Link turned and took one step toward where Ganondorf's body had tumbled through the curtain of water, determined to face whatever lay beyond this sodden rooftop, when all at once the scene changed and he found himself once again in the ruins of the King of Thieves exhibit of the museum. Ganondorf’s body and his sword were nowhere to be seen.

Anger and grief surged through his body, but he forced them down. He should have known that would happen; with the masked boy still controlling the museum, Link should have realized he would twist it to keep Link and his weapon separated. Taking a step back just to make sure, Link let out a sigh when the world didn’t change back. So it was gone… It was really, truly gone…

No. He could mourn for its loss later. Right now, Zelda was in danger. Trap or no trap, Link needed to get a move on.

Taking two steps, Link stopped to look down at the Trident of Power that still lay forgotten on the floor.

So, Ganondorf’s body and the Master Sword didn’t make the trip, but the Trident did… Weird.

Reaching out, Link half moved to pick it up then thought better of it and hurried off, racing out of the room. True, he was defenseless, and any weapon was better than none, but something about that weapon gave off an aura of malice and death. It wouldn’t feel right in his hands, and for all he knew it carried some sort of curse for anyone other than Ganondorf. No, Link would face whatever came next with his shield and his determination. Even without a weapon, nothing was going to stop him from keeping Zelda safe.

Feeling invisible eyes on his back, Link hurried on. On the back of his hand, his Triforce insignia seemed to throb in time with his heartbeat.

_I’m on my way, Zelda. Hold tight._


	31. Awakening

Link Hero sprinted through the empty, echoing halls of the Temple of Time.

He was close now, so close… Sheik had told him this was where Zelda had imprisoned herself within a crystal, sealing herself in a magical sleep in order to protect the Triforce of Wisdom from Ganondorf’s clutches. Now, Ocarina and song in tow, Link was only moments away from finally reuniting with his girlfriend and seeing the end of this nightmare…

So then… Why did he feel so anxious?

Link rounded a corner and braced himself out of habit for the world to change around him, only for everything to stay the same. That was definitely part of it; somehow, from the moment that he’d battled with Ganondorf, the museum had only switched once: to bring him to the Temple of Time, exactly where he needed to go.

If Link was an optimist, he’d say that the Goddesses or Destiny or some such was working in his favor to bring him and Zelda together, only after meeting with Ghirahim just now and the weird way that Ganondorf had been defeated, suspicious things like this had him more than a little on the edge.

Someone was behind this. Someone was manipulating the museum in his favor. But who? And why? Were they a friend? Were they a foe? If they were a foe, then how did him getting to Zelda help them out? And even if he was playing into his enemy’s hands, did he dare risk letting Zelda remain stuck in her prison, potentially forever?

He ultimately decided that it didn’t matter. Trap or no trap, Link was going to rescue Zelda, and together the two of them would face whatever came next. They’d stop whatever was going on, rescue their friends, and get out of this madhouse and on with their lives. He just needed to believe in that, and in himself, and everything would turn out ok…

Before he knew it, Link found himself in the large entryway, dozens of stone columns marching up the sides of the room and massive windows giving illumination through curtains of dusty light from high overhead. To the side was a large stone mural set behind some sort of ancient altar. This must be the place Sheik had said Zelda had prayed at, which meant that the mural was where he was supposed to play the song. Walking up a handful of steps, Link rounded the altar and faced the wall, digging the Ocarina out of his pocket.

It was a curious instrument. Small and weirdly shaped, it looked like it was made of some bluish-purple pearl-like substance yet felt like ivory to his touch. A small, golden band around the mouthpiece bore the Triforce insignia. This instrument had been his in a past life. He wasn’t entirely sure how or why he’d needed it, but he took comfort from the familiarity all the same.  Taking a deep breath, he pressed the instrument to his lips and blew.

The song came out high and clear, echoing softly off the tall marble walls. He stumbled on a note or two, wincing every time he did and silently praying that he wouldn’t have to replay the song over and over until he managed the entire thing exactly perfect, but to his relief, as soon as he finished, a rumbling shook the building and the massive mural before him began to retract into the ceiling, raining dust and debris down onto the already filthy floor.

When his eyes landed on her, he felt his breath catch.

There, suspended in midair above an empty pedestal, illuminated in a pillar of light from a massive, ornate stained-glass window near the high-vaulted ceiling, sat an enormous amber crystal. It throbbed with a soft, internal glow as though possessed of its own heartbeat. Though the gem was large, he could see through it quite clearly. Arms held aloft, hair frozen in the act of billowing out behind her, eyes closed in reverence, almost as though in prayer… She was still. Too still. So still, in fact, that with her eyes closed like that, she looked dead.

Ghirahim’s taunt was echoing in his head. She was in danger. He needed to wake her up, to get her out of here, but how-?

As though in answer to his internal question, a violent crack suddenly fissured the surface of the crystal.

Link could only gape in impotent horror as the crack spread, widening and deepening, splintering off into other cracks that spider-webbed across the surface of the amber crystal. It was breaking! Was this in response to the song he’d played to open the door, the one that was supposed to wake her up, or was this what Ghirahim meant by her being in danger? Was he too late to save her?

With a resounding crash, the crystal burst, and for a wild, horrifying moment Link thought that Zelda surely must have shattered alongside it. As the glowing light from within the crystal reached a crescendo, obscuring his sight, Link raced heedlessly forward, desperate to save her.

He needn't have worried; the moment the light cleared, there she was, suspended in the air now free of her crystal prison. With a gentleness that stood in sharp contrast to the frantic beating of Link's heart, she floated downwards, eyes still closed, hair still streaming out behind her.

Unconscious, Zelda Nohansen dropped neatly into Link’s awaiting arms.

Her weight returned a moment later, and, unprepared, Link found himself sagging to the floor with a surprised grunt, very nearly dropping his sleeping girlfriend onto the floor. Adjusting themselves into a more comfortable position, Link found himself kneeling on the raised dais before the empty pedestal that once housed the Master Sword, supporting Zelda’s torso against his chest, suddenly acutely aware of the flecks of dried blood still caked onto his hands and how his desire not to soil her clothes for fear of her wrath battled with his need to hold her as tightly as he could for fear of losing her again.

Tears of relief stung at his eyes, his throat tightening with emotion, and as he knelt there on the ground with his girlfriend’s body cradled in his arms, he struggled valiantly not to succumb to the weight of the worry and panic that had besieged him over the course of the last twenty-four hours, threatening to leave him weeping like a baby.

Nestled against his chest, Zelda’s head stirred.

“Mmm… Wha… Link?”

A watery chuckle bubbled up out of his throat.

“Yeah… Yeah, it’s me, Zel.”

“Oh… good. Did you…? Is it over?”

“It’s over,” he repeated comfortingly, drawing her in close and running his fingers through her hair absentmindedly, finding comfort in the familiarity of the action, forgetting all about the blood. “It’s finally over… Ganondorf is gone. For good, this time.”

Zelda finally succeeded in drawing back, her wide, amaranthine eyes boring into Link’s with mingled confusion and apprehension.

“…Ganondorf?”

Before Link could ask why she was making that face at him, a familiar, effeminate chuckle echoed throughout the silent, dusty room, and Link felt his entire body grow stiff.

Rising hastily to his feet and pulling a still befuddled Zelda up beside him, securing her as she wobbled a little on still-unsteady legs, Link put himself protectively in front of her and together they turned to face the approaching footsteps coming from the antechamber behind them.

“Well now… what a touching little reunion.”

The look of smug delight on Ghirahim’s face was sickening enough to make Link’s stomach turn.

With a wordless snarl, he reached for his sword before remembering a half-second later that he’d left it embedded in Ganondorf’s gut as his defeated foe had been washed away in that deluge. He was weaponless.

Ghirahim advanced with slow, deliberate steps, gazing about the temple in a nonchalant manner before turning back toward Link and Zelda with a crude sneer.

“But of course, we’re still missing someone for this reunion to be truly complete. Worry not; my master will be with us shortly.”

“Demon Lord Ghirahim,” Zelda gasped softly over Link’s shoulder, and if anything, the oddly graceful villain’s smile became even more pronounced.

“Ah, so you do remember me now! Well, isn’t that simply wonderful? If you only knew how long I’ve hungered for this moment, Your Grace…” He licked his lips lavishly. “I’m practically salivating at the thought of what I have in store for you.”

“If you even think of laying one hand on her...” Link warned, stepping forward threateningly.

“You’ll do what?” Ghirahim cut in, his unctuous voice heavy with condescension. “Glower at me? You seem to be missing your little toy there, Hero. Are you sure you can function without it?”

“I don’t need the Master Sword to deal with you!” Link bellowed back, charging forward with his fist raised, ignoring Zelda’s cautionary shout from behind as he moved, determined to wipe that ingratiating look off Ghirahim’s face if it was the last thing he did.

The other man didn’t even flinch. Link’s fist connected with Ghirahim’s cheek and at once pain exploded throughout his hand. A sharp gasp tore itself from Link’s mouth as he stumbled back, cradling his bleeding knuckles, suddenly terrified that he’d somehow broken his hand as opposed to Ghirahim’s jaw. What in the Goddesses’ name was that?! It was like he’d punched a metal pole!

“I do so love a man with firm hands…” Ghirahim taunted softly, a lecherous smirk on his face, and before Link could do anything more than gape like an idiot, Ghirahim’s surprise backhand caught him across the face and he was literally knocked across the room.

The world went momentarily black. When his vision returned, he was lying flat on his back on the cold stone flooring, pain exploding throughout his face and neck like New Year’s fireworks as his brain spun in nauseating circles. Fighting the urge to vomit, Link forced himself up on all fours and struggled to get a bearing on his surroundings.

“Well now, that was fun,” Ghirahim taunted from somewhere nearby. “But I’ve kept you all waiting long enough, haven’t I? Time for the setup, I suppose… oh, but first: Majora! Come over here and keep our little Hero busy, hmm?”

A familiar, discordant cackle rent the air, like that of several children laughing in disharmonious unison, and a heavy, malignant aura settled over Link like a thick blanket, smothering him, gluing his limbs to his sides and heaving him up into the air, his head lolling to one side as he struggled to keep his eyes open and focused. He was pretty sure his lip was busted from Ghirahim’s blow and the blood was trickling down his chin onto his shirt.

A little imp of a boy flew into view, the strange Terminian tiki mask rattling obnoxiously on his face as he jeered down at Link, arms akimbo on his filthy black skull-print T-shirt.

“Well lookie here!” he cried out, suddenly giddy. “You really got him! And here I thought he was gonna try and put up a fight!”

“Link!” Zelda cried out in concern from across the room, seeming to have finally regained her senses from her magical sleep, lifting her arm and aiming her palm in her direction, something small and bright beginning to form in the center of her hand.

“That’s enough out of you, Your Grace,” Ghirahim cut in cajolingly, snapping his fingers. At once, Zelda’s hands were forced behind her back and she sagged down onto her knees as some invisible magical force bore down on her.

“Perfect,” Ghirahim tittered. “Know your place, wench. Now, for a little change in decor!”

With an unexpectedly bestial roar, Ghirahim thrust his arms into the air and the world began to shake.

Link opened his mouth to cry out but found that forming words was still momentarily beyond him. He felt like everything around him was moving through a liquid, and he couldn't quite get a grip on his motor functions. Majora's magical bindings weren't helping either, but that didn't stop him from trying.

With cracks like canon fire, massive fissures tore through the stone floor beneath him, spider-webbing across the ancient, sacred symbols, and the entire building shook as though seized by an earthquake. Hunks of stone tore free from the shattered floor, rising up into the air in thick, uneven pillars, forming a ring of six around the dais upon which Zelda and the empty pedestal stood.

Six more pillars tore themselves from the ground directly in front of the previous six, these ones just slightly smaller than the last, forming another circle, and just when Link thought that the stability of the building was irreparably damaged, Ghirahim lowered his arms and the shaking came to a rest.

“Hmm…” he mused thoughtfully, stroking his chin with a gloved hand as he strolled about amidst the newly-formed pillars, admiring his work. “Yes, these ought to do nicely… Now, for our little guests!”

He snapped his fingers once more, and swirling tendrils of dark magic enveloped the top-most section of the outer ring of pillars, solidifying into the forms of six people, bound in thick, heavy chains that fastened them painfully by their arms and ankles against the rough black stone.

Link couldn’t help the gasp that tore itself from his throat as he recognized the first; it was Colin Smith, his little sister’s ex-boyfriend. What in Din’s name was he doing here?!

Link’s eyes skipped to the next and felt his stomach drop out. That was Aryll, his little sister! And there on her right was Ralph, still wearing his jacket like a cape. And beside him, Linebeck, and Kafei, and… Sheik?! What…? How…?! Sheik had gone off with Midna, Navi, and Ciela to find their friends and bring them to safety- how on earth did he end up here, in Ghirahim’s clutches?! And if he was here, then what happened to the others? Did Ghirahim have them too? Were they lost, or hurt, or worse? Had Link let them rush off to their doom?

Ghirahim snapped once more, and the darkness solidified around the six smaller pillars, coalescing into the shapes of six children.

Link’s eyes landed upon the wide, panicked gaze of a familiar blonde and felt something break inside of him. Muscles straining against his invisible bonds, Link shoved forcibly past the disorientation that still gripped his mind from Ghirahim’s blow and shouted, “Tatl!”

Her eyes snapped to him in a heartbeat, wide with disbelief for a brief moment before sheer terror washed over her face and she began struggling fitfully against her bindings as though desperate to reach him.

“L-Link! Help!”

“Link?!” Another childish voice cried out, and Link recognized the slight form of Ciela somewhere to Tatl’s right.

“Link?”

“Help!”

“Get me out of here!”

Everyone was shouting now, all twelve captives struggling futilely against their shackles, desperate to be let down.

“Enough!”

With what can only be described as a shockwave of dark magic that exploded out of Ghirahim in a concussive blast, silence once again reigned over the ruined chamber, though the hostages’ mouths still worked as they shouted out in silent fear and anger.

“Yes, much better. And now for our guest of honor…”

Ghirahim snapped his fingers one final time, and darkness converged on the floor opposite Zelda, coalescing into the familiar, hulking form of Ganondorf, his white shirt sodden with rainwater and stained red from his blood, Link's sword still embedded in his gut. His eyes were closed, yet to Link’s stunned disbelief he was still breathing, albeit shallowly.

Zelda’s eyes were trained on Ganondorf’s with mingled confusion and horror. She tilted her head to shoot Link a searching look from across the room, only from such a distance he had no way of explaining. He didn’t even know what there was to explain. Everything that was going on right now, from his classmates to the orphans to Ganondorf’s sudden appearance was completely lost on him. He felt like he’d spent the whole night working on a presentation for history class only to show up to school and find out they were having a math test instead. Nothing made any sense anymore.

With one last fanciful arm movement, the floor beneath Zelda and Ganondorf began to quake and two more slabs of rock jutted up out of the ground. Unlike the pillars that had risen before, these two pieces of rock were flat like tables, only they sat half standing, half leaning back, almost as if someone was meant to lean against them.

And that was exactly what Ghirahim did; flicking a hand toward Ganondorf, he lifted the larger boy’s inert body off the ground with magic and secured him against one of the stones by thick chains that materialized around his wrists and ankles that he conjured out of thin air. Ganondorf’s head lolled lifelessly from side to side as his body settled against the cool stone, and the sword in his gut slid partially back out, dark red blood glistening malignantly on the holy blade, yet somehow it just managed to stay lodged within his body.

Directly across from him, Zelda was lifted up off the ground and fastened to the opposite slab in a similar fashion, arms and legs spread and held by chains, her eyes fierce and feral as they glowered threateningly at Ghirahim, who paid her no mind as he stalked about his newly created rock formations, examining them with a critical eye.

Over Link’s head, the masked boy gave out an impatient sigh.

“Aren’t you done yet? This is taking so long…”

“Do not rush me, Majora!” Ghirahim snapped, seemingly unable to abandon his tone of perpetual haughtiness. “Everything must be perfect for our Master! You know this!”

“But I’m bored!”

“Then run along and play with our other little guest. I’m busy.”

With a cackle of glee, the masked boy zoomed off. Link half expected his magical bindings to weaken the farther the boy got from him, but no dice; invisible though it might be, whatever held him bound was just as strong as ever. He had no idea how he was going to get out of this, but whatever he did he needed to do it fast, before Ghirahim did… whatever it was he was going to do.

A sound caught Link’s ear, something like muffled screaming, and he turned his head toward the direction the masked boy had flown only to find himself staring at a large orange and purple bubble over against the far wall that certainly hadn't been there a moment before. The bubble-like thing seethed with flashes of lightning all along its surface, crackling with energy, and it took Link a moment before he was able to see past it to what was held inside.

It was Midna, all alone in her tiny magical prison cell. Apparently, whatever it was Ghirahim and Majora were doing with his friends, whatever this bizarre, horrifying ritual was, she, like Link, wasn’t needed.

Ghirahim’s pacing finally came to an end in the very middle of the ring of pillars he’d created. With one last cursory flick of his hair, he turned his venomous gaze onto Zelda and allowed a mocking smile to grace his lips.

“Well, Your Grace? How do you like my resurrection circle?”

She didn’t answer, her eyes on fire as she glared back at the man who held her and her friends captive.

“Fair enough,” he replied with a shrug. “I suppose you’re not going to like what comes next, either. I would apologize, only… well, I’m not sorry.”

And with a laugh that sounded far too deep and powerful to be coming from the same being who giggled so effeminately earlier, Ghirahim began to dance.

Link felt his jaw drop in stupefaction.

What… in the world…

If the situation hadn't been so serious, Link probably would have busted out laughing at the sight of his enemy gyrating frenetically around his girlfriend and arch-nemesis. As it was, however, just when Link was starting to think that if all he had to worry about was the sight of Ghirahim shaking his hips branding itself forever in his subconscious, maybe this wasn’t all so bad after all, it started.

A light seemed to glow around Zelda and she let out a surprised gasp as her body was lifted into the air, making her chains rattle as they held her fast in place an inch or two above the slab she was tethered to.

All at once, the twelve people chained to the pillars around the resurrection circle began to writhe in discomfort, their shouts of anguish breaking through the magical gag that Ghirahim had placed upon them moments before, and sparks of dark purple energy began dancing along the perimeter of the pillars as though they were conduits for some weird sort of magic electricity.

As Link looked around, startled and unsure about what was going on, Ghirahim finally stopped his bizarre dancing. Flicking his hair away from his eyes, he gazed up at Zelda’s levitating body, her face a mask of pained discomfort as she struggled not to cry out, and he licked his lips hungrily.

“Well… The spell has been cast. It’s only a matter of time now.”

He turned back and shot Link a victorious grin.

“I see the pain of the ritual has caused your friends to break the spell I cast on them. I could always cast it again, but I must confess, the sound of their screams is like a soothing balm… Do you not agree, Hero?”

“What…” Link rasped, torn between outrage about what was happening to his friends and guilt that he was unable to do anything to stop it, “What is this? What are you doing, Ghirahim?! Stop it, let them go!”

Ghirahim turned to examine the ring of pillars once more as though mulling it over before shrugging dejectedly.

“Let them go? I think not. Though I suppose I could fill you in on the details of my master plan. We have a great deal of time to kill, and there’s just something so thrilling about braggadocio… Lording my superior intellect over a fallen Hero, the very thought sends shivers up delight up my spine.”

Link was grateful for the distraction provided by the desperation of the situation they were in; he really didn’t want to think about Ghirahim shivering anywhere.

Link’s friends and the orphans were still writhing and crying out amidst the crackling purple electricity that formed Ghirahim’s resurrection circle, but Ghirahim paid them no mind as he stalked toward the restrained Link, a gloating smile on his face.

“I suppose that since the events of our previous encounter seem to be lost to your astoundingly dim intellect, I’ll go ahead and recount them for you briefly. There was a time, once, millennia ago, when the land the Goddesses made was new, when my master waged battle with that putrid milksop Hylia for dominance of this world. Hylia succeeded, for a time, in trapping my master, but knowing full well that she could never hope to contain his magnificence eternally, Hylia set about concocting a wretched little plan to destroy him using the power of the Golden Three, those light-blinded trumped-up pixies who'd left her in charge. She made the mind-bogglingly stupid decision of forsaking her strength and immortality as a goddess to become a pathetic mortal girl, and, along with a Hero, a glorified metal toothpick, and a great deal of luck, she somehow managed to circumvent the moment of my master's glorious return to power and succeeded in scattering his essence to the four corners of the earth, effectively preventing his return indefinitely."

Here, Ghirahim paused in his circular pacing to turn and shoot Link a venomous look.

“That mortal Hero was you, obviously. You may not remember, but I recognize the stench of your soul anywhere. My hatred for you burns with a passion that words themselves simply cannot define, but though I’ve long desired to squeeze the life from your eyes with my bare hands, I know that my master would be most displeased to not get the chance to kill you himself. And I promise you, Hero, no matter what sort of deliciously painful tortures I might come up with for you, whatever he has in mind will be infinitely worse.”

Link didn’t respond. Over Ghirahim’s shoulder, he could see something like glimmering particles of dust floating up from Zelda as her body slowly began to grow limp against the chains.

“The events of that day were devastating for me,” Ghirahim went on, continuing in his pacing as if he hadn’t just stopped to threaten Link with a fate worse than death. “When my master fell to the trickery of you servants of the Golden Three, he played his last hand to ensure that those who dared to defy him would suffer his wrath, and he chose to split his being in two rather than allow his entirety to be sealed away. Thus, when Hylia and her Hero imprisoned most of my master’s being within that sham of a blade, the only magical artifact blessed by the Three with enough power to contain him, the other part of him, his hatred and malice, dispersed into the world in the form of a curse; a curse that would hound the souls of Goddess and Hero alike for time everlasting, a curse that would plague this wretched land with hatred and death and destruction until all beings who basked in the Goddesses’ Light would know suffering and ruin at my Master’s hand.

“And thus, Hero, was Hyrule cursed to suffer as my Master has suffered. It is for this reason that whenever you are reborn, whenever Hylia’s ilk walks again upon the land, that a great evil inevitably rises to threaten all that you hold dear. Influenced by my Master’s curse, your land has been made to suffer again and again and again throughout the millennia, and though many have managed to end the violence temporarily, none have been able to put an end to it for good. Though your Goddesses claim superiority, they are but helpless in the face of my master’s lingering shadow! The mere memory of his immensity has proven too great a force to be exorcised! And thus did Hyrule remain in its perpetual cycle of death and woe… until now.”

Zelda had fallen completely limp by this point, hanging like a ragdoll from the shackles that held her bound. Across from her, Link could see Sheik’s face coated with sweat as he shuddered in pain against his bindings. Tears were streaming down Tatl’s cheeks as she cried out for somebody, anybody, to save her.

“When my master was defeated, I, too, was sealed away. Lost in the darkness, I was reduced to a lesser-being. Less than a shadow, less than the meanest ghost… devoid of even conscious thought, yet still somehow I clung to life. Age after age passed with me trapped in this oblivion, until finally… I was revived.”

Ghirahim paused in his storytelling to lean up against Link, an elbow against his shoulder as he took in the sight of screaming adolescents before him.

“I suppose I have you mortals to thank for that. I’m not entirely certain how it happened, but somehow, you insects allowed magic to fall away from the world. Through generations of disuse and ignorance, its influence gradually began to vanish from the land, and with it gone, many of the things that once made this land great began to fade as well. Protective spirits died out, mystical creatures reverted to the mundane, old wards and protective enchantments began to weaken… Whatever had been holding me bound since my Master’s defeat vanished, and I awoke in a world completely unlike my own.

“I was, in a word, disgusted. A world devoid of magic, a world without demons to stalk the night or monsters to pillage and raid, a world filled with mortals and mortals alone? It’s a nightmare even I would have been frightened of, and a nightmare that was suddenly all too real. Yet I could still feel the faint vestiges of my Master’s rage and contempt flittering on the air, and thus I knew that even if all things had seemed to have changed, one constant remained the same: that Hylia and her Hero still existed, and that my Master continued to ensure their suffering. After all, even in defeat, his powers are without compare…

“It wasn’t long thereafter that I heard the news. A veritable warzone exploding in a once-peaceful institution for learning. Numerous youths cut down in their prime, the glory of my Master’s evil made manifest once more. I could sense him, then; the current vessel for my Master’s hatred, emissary of demon-kind, that great buffoon who calls himself Ganondorf, made great only because of my Master’s influence. Defeated by a young boy who reeked of goodwill, and a girl… a very familiar girl…”

With a roar, Ganondorf’s eyes flew open and he wrenched his head back, his entire body spasming as some sort of dark miasma began draining out of his every orifice. The Master Sword was also enveloped in this same dark smoke, and as the darkness floated upwards it began combining with the shimmering light that had drained from Zelda, the two of them churning together like a viscous cloud in the air above the resurrection circle. The faster the gases swirled, the louder the orphans screamed.

“I knew at once what must be done. Though magic had faded, it was not gone entirely. I could still feel it in the land, sense it around those who participated in the massacre. I knew then that, with most of the world devoid of magic, and with the old barriers failing, I would have no better opportunity to do the impossible and bring my Master back to renew his conquest of this world. I would need to go about resurrecting him once more, but unlike last time in which I merely restored his weakened form to its previous splendor, I would also need to recombine the disparate parts of his being, and for that, I would need a few extra ingredients. But where was I to find them?"

Stepping forward, Ghirahim turned and flashed Link a feral smile. Overhead, the dark cloud of smoke was beginning to condense.

“That was when I learned of this museum; a record of all the myths and legends of the ages lost to mortal disbelief, a veritable treasure trove of magical artifacts, all housed together in one unique reliquary. It was as if fate was handing me the keys to my Master’s return on a silver platter. Here I found out all the happenings of the world in my absence, distorted though they might be thanks to human fallibility. I also learned of this idiotic festival, and the delivery of Majora, another servant of my master, sealed away within a mask and displayed like some sideshow trinket for mortals to gawk at.

“Over time, as I began crafting my plan, I began to notice subtle changes in the world around me, little signs that magic was once again beginning to return to the world. Whether this change was brought about by design of the Goddesses or some side effect to the actions taken by you, Hylia, and Ganondorf last spring, I cannot say; it’s even possible that it was these changes that caused me to awaken in the first place. All I know for certain is that as soon as I sensed these changes, putting them together with the knowledge garnered from this museum, I was able to formulate my master plan.

“First, I would need to collect the pieces of my Master’s being. The first was easy enough; though the world foolishly believed him dead, I knew that the current harbinger of my Master’s curse was yet alive and planning his revenge. After all, I could still sense him, no matter how far he fled. Luring him here was easy enough; the fool craves power above all else, all that was needed was the promise of that gaudy trident of his and I knew that he would come running. The second part was a bit more tricky, as the Master Sword is a weapon that only you, Hero, can draw. Still, I knew that if I could get you close to it and provide you with a reason to draw it, that you would do so without a second thought and after that it was a simple matter of you playing delivery boy. That your reason for pulling the sword was this Ganondorf was a stroke of brilliance on my part. I got him to search out his weapon because of you and got you to search out your weapon because of him. One stone, two birds.

“The second thing I needed was the soul of Hylia.”

Link couldn’t help the way his eyes flickered to his girlfriend’s unconscious body over Ghirahim’s shoulder.

“Again, not much of a hassle. She follows you wherever you go like a helpless puppy. I knew that if I could draw you and Ganondorf in that she would follow. Honestly, most of my work was done for me. All that was left after that was reforging my Master’s essence.

“For that, I required two things. First, a source of magical energy immense enough to fuel the process of recombining my Master’s separate parts, and something that could wield multiple types of magic simultaneously. In a world devoid of magic, that seemed just about impossible. I would also need something that could purify the taint of mortality from the part of my Master that resided within Ganondorf and the other mortal pawns my Master had subconsciously influenced over the ages. For that, I would need a source of pure magic untainted by the mundane, something holy that would repel my Master’s demonic nature. Only where in this pathetic, mortal travesty of a world would I ever find such things?”

The screaming of his friends and crackling of ominous magical energy seemed to be reaching a crescendo. Though Link strained desperately against his magical bindings, his limbs never budged an inch. He could see Ganondorf had fallen limp just like Zelda had, his body looking unmistakably dead the way it hung there, lifeless, a bloody sword extending from his gut. One by one, the orphans seemed to be dropping into unconsciousness as well. Over the screams of his classmates, he thought he could hear the desperate cries of Midna from behind Majora’s magical cage.

The gas above them had condensed immensely into the form of an indistinct blob that writhed in midair like water on a griddle. A sense of deep foreboding was welling up inside of him, and it only grew worse whenever he looked towards it. Whatever Ghirahim’s master was, it was altogether different from anything Link had faced before.

“It has been a long time since last the Hero and Hylia walked this earth,” Ghirahim went on, gazing longingly at the shuddering mass of darkness above them. “A long time since my Master’s evil has seen fit to blanket the land in sorrow and woe. A long, long time… Yet your reappearance heralded the awakening of many other old things, things I learned about from this museum, things I was able to search out and, ultimately, thanks to you, find.  

“The sages, for example; something that did not exist in my time, some newfangled invention of Hylia's in a life long since passed. Seven mortals, Hylia included, who possessed extraordinary magical power… They awaken in tandem with the Hero and the Goddess, work together with them to lead the nation, containing the keys to the Sacred Realm. With the changes I could feel beginning to take hold upon the world, I knew that in time I would find them, somewhere near where you two would be, and their magical strength, diverse and powerful as it is, would be the perfect candidate for an energy source.

“As for the purifying agent, I knew from before that nothing in this world was as pure as the spirits of old, beings from a higher plane, but where was I to find one in a world as filthy and mundane as this? It seemed to me for a time that all of them had either fled or perished when the world succumbed to this retched, hollow state. Mortal superstition as described in this museum was my answer, however; according to the abundance of fanciful human tales and fables, I surmised that at least one being of spirit yet remained in the world.

“Fairies. Weak, pathetic, utterly devoid of use, it would only make sense that the cockroaches of the magical world managed to survive in this desolate wasteland. Though normally they can exist only in places devoid of evil and strife, it would seem they found the only place on this Goddess-forsaken rock where such naïve goodness exists; within the hearts of children. I knew, then, that I would need to find a way to draw these fairies out, to get them to manifest their powers that I might exploit them for my own designs.”

“Fairies…?” Link gasped in spite of himself, uttering his first word since Ghirahim’s diatribe had begun.

“Precisely, Hero. Fairies once populated the world as numerously as your common insect, but now it would seem they are a rare commodity. I knew, however, that no matter how shy a fairy was, it would be unable to resist showing itself if in the presence of a true hero. They are drawn to them, you see, like moths to a flame. Something in their makeup mandates that they appear to help whenever a hero is in need. A weakness they share as a race, it would seem, but one that is terribly exploitable. Only where was I to find enough true heroes, heroes without spite or guile, heroes who would sacrifice themselves for the wellbeing of another, selflessly and without hesitation? Where among the sprawling, unwashed, filthy masses could I find such rare, idiotic individuals?”

A low laugh emitted from Ghirahim’s throat, and he casually lifted a gloved hand to flick his bangs away from his eyes.

“I’ve thought this many times before in the past, but it feels good to say this now aloud to your face. That little massacre last year, the one that robbed you of so many of your peers… might have just been the miracle this world has been waiting for. In one act, the Hero, the Goddess, and the Demon King’s emissary were brought together for the first time in ages. I found you all because of that day. The catalyst that potentially awakened both myself and the magic so long lost from this world likely stemmed from your little episode in that office last year. And what’s more, after studying what happened in said massacre, I learned of your friends, the ones who helped you and Hylia bring the shooting to an end. Mortals of stalwart bravery, who recklessly risked their lives to save others instead of themselves. Yes, Hero… I had the perfect candidates to draw my fairies out of hiding. Your friends would be my bait.

“After that, it was just a matter of preparation. When I learned of your school trip down to the very museum in which I had made my base, I thanked the Goddesses for their utter stupidity and put my plan into motion. I tempted Ganondorf with the lure of his trident to draw him close. I kidnapped a group of orphaned children to draw out the fairies I could feel sleeping inside of them. I sent Dark Link out to steal Majora's Mask and frame you for the theft, and afterward I used one of the orphans as a host body to awaken Majora, and with her help, I created a maze of deadly traps and tests designed to put your friends and the orphans into dangerous situations and provide them with ample opportunities to showcase their heroic traits and cause the fairies to awaken in the orphan’s hearts. That these heroes also wound up being the sages I needed was little more than serendipity. As for you, I had you framed for a crime you didn’t commit so as to separate you from your friends until you drew the sword, after which I used Dark Link again to lure you to the museum.

“That you killed him doesn’t bother me at all; he was narrow-minded and devoid of vision, and I’m more than happy to be rid of his ilk. All he cared for was your undoing, he was incapable of seeing the bigger picture. All that was left after that was to get you to weaken Ganondorf and to separate you from your blade to make the revival of my Master all the more simple. I have to admit, the look of shock on that oaf’s face when I trapped him in place for you to impale him was simply delectable…”

The turgid lump of dark energy seemed to have reached its maximum density. An orb of solid black, shifting and writhing in midair over the circle of crackling pillars, seemingly drawing in and consuming all the light in the room. It seemed to exert a strange sort of pressure whenever Link looked at it, something that weighed him down as though the force of gravity intensified while in the presence of this glob of black evil.

All at once, the writhing, misshapen mass shuddered in midair and a sound rent the room; something like a cross between a roar of rage and the crackling of an inferno as it tore through a forest, devouring everything in its path.

Try as he might, Link couldn’t look away. The darkness above him shuddered again, and again, and again, growing faster and faster like the pulsing of a heart. With every fluctuation, the room seemed to grow dimmer.

Ghirahim was by Link’s side, gazing up in awe.

“Finally…” he breathed, voice entranced, “After ages upon ages of waiting… He is here…”

At once, the screaming of his friends cut out, the crackling energy over the pillars ceased, and the room was still.

“Lord Demise…”

The orb exploded outward, and Link was swallowed by darkness.


	32. In Need of a Miracle

Midna slammed the butt of her fist impotently against the iridescent purple-and-orange barrier for what must have been the hundredth time, ignoring the dull spark of pain that flashed up from the bruise she was sure was forming on the corner of her wrist.

Outside, Zelda’s body had grown limp against her shackles, the tiny particles of light that had floated out of her drifting aimlessly above her and the ring of captives like a halo of fireflies. She could just barely make out Sheik’s face from this distance, a veritable mask of pain, drenched in sweat and paler than she’d ever seen it.

Every fiber of her being was screaming for her to smash her way through the barrier like the pint-sized magic Hulk she was and rescue her friends from the demonic duo who held them bound - Ghirahim in his bedazzled circus performer getup and the little boy with the ridiculous Halloween mask on in mid-April. Only she couldn’t. Whatever this barrier was made of, it was strong- stronger than her. The bit of Fused Shadow she kept on her head like a crown had made no difference, and somehow, the masked boy had managed to steal her shoulder bag when he got the jump on them.

She still didn’t know exactly what had happened; one moment, the group had been traipsing through the museum, sharing their spoils from the vending machines they’d stolen, trying to find their way back to the Temple of Time where Sheik had said Zelda had hidden herself away, and then… nothing. Her memory just… ends.

The masked boy must have done something. Leaped out at them from behind, or laid some sort of trap, or…

It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter what happened then, or how he’d gotten the best of them. What mattered now was that her friends were in trouble and here she was, alone, held prisoner by a bubble, and the only thing she could think of that could break her free had been taken from her.

“What’s got you so glum?” came the chipper voice of her under-aged captor as he floated languidly overhead. “Your friends are giving their lives as sacrifice for the glory of the new world that my Master will usher in. Darkness and chaos, madness and suffering… Oh man, I can’t wait! You should be honored!”

Midna bit back her scathing retort; the boy, he was wearing her shoulder bag! If she could only find some way to…!

To what? Get him to hand it to her through the barrier? Who exactly was she trying to kid?

The boy noticed the direction of her gaze and let out another one of his obnoxious, echoey giggles.

“Don’t worry; I’m taking good care of your toys,” he said, giving the bag an exaggerated pat. “The power they hold is impressive, all things considered, but still can’t hold a candle to what I’ve got. I’d destroy them now, but I don’t want to miss the big show. Guess I’ll save that for later.”

With a dismissive ‘hup!’, he turned and lobbed her shoulder bag into the corner where it hit the ground with a dull ‘thunk’. Midna winced; she hoped none of the pieces had broken even further. She would need them if she ever found a way out of here.

“But man, you sure are lucky for a mortal,” the masked boy continued, swooping in lower so they could better see one another, though he was inexplicably floating upside down. “You have some great seats. Probably the best seats in the world. I mean, other than the Hero of Time over there- he’s got front row. Celebrities get special treatment, life’s just not fair like that. But you still have it better than most. Never say that I never did anything for you.”

“What are you doing to my friends?” she asked, loath to continue their conversation but at a loss for anything else to do.

The masked boy shrugged.

“You know how it goes; sacrificing a damsel to resurrect an ancient demon lord. A tale as old as time. Literally, in this case. That was the point of all your suffering tonight, if you hadn’t caught on yet – I put your friends through heroic trials with the specific intent of having them awaken as Sages and fulfill their destiny. Which is to say, to have them become pawns in the resurrection ritual intended to bring my Master back into the world. I won’t go into the details – I doubt your pathetic mortal mind could comprehend it anyway – but I should thank you for trying so hard. You aren’t a Sage yourself; just an extra, but thanks to your hard work, all of this is now possible.”

There was a lot to unpack in the masked boy’s monologue – her friends being Sages was both surprising and unsurprising for all the wrong reasons, and the fact that she was not only powerless to help but also hadn’t even had a purpose at all made her feel hollow and annoyed – however, none of that mattered right now.

Something was off in the masked boy’s voice. Something was different, something had changed.

She hadn’t really given much thought to him before, having been so focused on not dying all night, but somewhere in the middle of his impromptu speech, a thought had occurred to her. Something about his childish tone stood at odds with the heaviness of the subject matter that he was speaking about. He seemed… different… from the child who had sent her away to that clock town the night before. Her one free eye was locked on the floating boy with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension.

“Majora?” she called out, half expecting him to ignore her.

“Yeah, what do you want, Twili runt?” he grunted, glowering down at her through wide, painted eyes.

“Who… am I talking to right now? The mask? Or the boy?”

There was a heavy pause in which the two regarded each other in relative silence. Slowly, the mask tilted to the side as though he were seeing her in a new light.

“...both,” he answered finally, and it seemed as though his voice had suddenly deepened. “Though that won’t be true for much longer. When someone dons Majora’s Mask, they gain access to all of her incredible power, but in return, that person becomes sort of like a power cell that fuels the mask. A symbiotic relationship is formed temporarily between demon and host, and the life force of the wearer is converted into the energy that grants the mask power. Once all the power has been drained, the boy’s body will die and Majora will be freed. For the moment, however, we are both as one- our essences have merged. I am both boy and demon.”

"Oh, gods..." Midna mumbled, feeling sick. “I didn’t think...”

“Enough of this chatter,” Majora cut in, floating away and turning to face the circle of pillars once more. Somewhere during their distracted conversation, a large black sphere had formed around where Zelda’s firefly spirit particles had been floating earlier, and the crackling of dark electricity seemed to have reached a crescendo. “My Master cometh...”

Unable to afford a moment of pity for the child slowly being consumed by the demon of the mask, Midna’s eyes searched out the forms of Link and Ghirahim, who both seemed to have turned their attention to the sphere as well, before darting over to her boyfriend one last time. His body had grown as limp as Zelda’s. From that far away, she couldn’t tell if he was even still breathing.

‘ _Oh Goddesses, please..._ ’ she prayed silently in her heart. ‘ _I know now that you’re real, and if you can hear me… Please… Do something. Send us help!_ ’

Without warning, a roar like a mountain being torn in two blasted throughout the room, and the murky black orb above the ring of pillars exploded, sending undulating waves of inky darkness surging outward almost faster than her eye could follow.

The world vanished into oblivion.

* * *

The darkness cleared, the rushing of the wind stopped, and, utilizing all the courage he had, Link forced his eyes to open.

As soon as he did, there was nothing more he wanted in life than to shut them and never open them again.

“I have returned.”

The figure standing in the center of the ring of pillars was almost too incredible to describe. Skin black as midnight, hair a swath of dancing flames, his body a hulking mass of beefy muscles like you might expect of old illustrations of barbarians or Vikings, only something about him was unmistakably regal and composed, not the wild, unrestrained monstrosity that Link was expecting.

The skin that stretched across his bulging abs and pectorals was a smooth, oily gray that softly fluctuated between different degrees of ebony black and shimmering silver. His arms were covered in scales, thick and black like that of a serpent, though his fingertips ended in jagged claws. Honestly, this was the most muscular figure Link had ever seen; not in that ‘pretty boy action hero’ kinda way that movies had made him accustomed to, but in the barrel-chested old-world style of strength. ‘Swole’ he thought was the word people used to describe that, though to be honest it was a term he’d never actually had reason to use, and he felt weird using it now, even if only in his head.

The creature’s face was blockish and rough, with a heavy brow and a squashed nose and a jaw that might as well have been fashioned from granite, and though it was hardly an attractive look, Link couldn’t deny that it suited him. The redness of his eyes was dim in comparison to the literal inferno that was his hair, flowing all the way down towards the middle of his back like a bad ‘80’s action hero, and yet they glowed with a murderous sort of madness deep within the coal-black boulder that was his face.

Though bare-chested and with bare feet, he did wear one article of clothing- a loose cloth belted around his waist like a skirt to preserve his dignity. Somehow, the minimalist piece of clothing seemed to scream both ‘Tarzan’ and ‘king’ at the same time, a feat Link wasn’t quite sure how he was pulling off.

From head to toe, he was the very avatar of strength, the Stygian shadow of a barbarian king. Every aspect of his being screamed power, and to defy him was to defy the very darkness itself. A futile endeavor. An endeavor Link would have to undertake.

“We meet again, Hero.”

His voice was soft and husky, like smoke.

“Master…” a voice interrupted, “Lord Demise… Welcome back...”

From off to the side, Ghirahim stepped forward, his face literally glowing with ecstasy, his entire posture uncharacteristically servile and restrained. One arm was held rigidly at his side, the other curled awkwardly against his breast as he performed a slow, deliberate bow.

Without warning, without even looking at the other man, Demise extended his clawed hand outward in a sharp grasping motion and at once, Ghirahim’s body was jerked forward unnaturally, his chest extended, his limbs wrenched back, his mouth gaping as the unmistakable sound of choking wrenched itself from his lips, his neck bent back at a horrifying angle. Not once did the look of ecstasy leave his face.

In a flash, Ghirahim’s body seemed to melt into black goo, soaring across the intervening space in the blink of an eye to settle in his master’s hand, his body taking the form of a massive, obsidian broadsword, the edges of the blade jagged like lightning.

From his position pinned against his restraints, Link jerked backward, a horrified expression on his face. Ghirahim’s master had just turned him into a sword?! Or… was he always a sword, like Fi? Was that why, when Link punched him earlier, it had hurt his hand so much? But then… if that was all he was, just a tool… Why did he go through all this effort, just to be used?

Demise was silent for a moment, examining his blade with disinterest before turning his head skyward and examining the domed ceiling above them. He drew a deep breath through his potato-like nostrils, held it for a moment in his cavernous chest while his eyes scanned the room without seeing, and then let out a slow, steady chuckle that rumbled forth like the shaking of the very earth.

“It has been long, I see… Very long. Ages. Millenia. My memory of the passing of the years is vague, and yet… I can sense the changes. This mortal world Hylia was to guard has fallen far.”

His steady, burning gaze focused itself on Link, and yet… where Link expected to find abject terror crushing his insides upon meeting this demon’s eyes, he found only calm resolve. The mark on the back of his hand began to glow with a steady, reassuring light.

"This world decays without magic, yet still… There is something different, here. Something that I cannot… but what does it matter? Eons I have waited, endless ages have passed by while you squandered your time here on this earth. No more. The time has come for a changing of the guard, and once I have taken this land as my own, I will move on. On, to the other worlds created by the Golden Three; on, until I have struck them down and taken their place. But first..."

He lifted his free hand, and at once the bindings surrounding Link faded away. He hit the ground surprised and wobbled for a moment on unsteady legs before he managed to catch his balance. Hastily he jerked the shield from off its hook on his sheath on his back and not for the first time regretted leaving his blade embedded in Ganondorf’s intestines. He was closer to it now than ever before, and yet with Demise standing in between them, he might as well be in East Holodrum.

“A rematch, Hero,” Demise said, cutting through Link’s thoughts. “One more battle to settle the score between us. I have waited an eternity for this world; I can spare a few moments more. Though much has changed, the fire in your eyes remains the same. The only mortal to have ever caught my interest… Allow me to prove to you that our last meeting was a fluke.

“Take up your blade and fight me,” he commanded, and even as he spoke the sword wobbled in Ganondorf’s inert body before being wrenched out by some unseen force and thrown clattering at Link’s disbelieving feet. “Strike me with all of your courage, and know when you fall that even everything you had was not enough to stop me. Come, Hero. I have slept for a long time… With your blade, show me what I’ve missed through the ages.”

And with that, Demise hefted his Ghirahim-blade high, until the tip was pointed at the ceiling. The familiarity of the motion was all that saved Link; as soon as he saw what he was doing, Link threw himself forward towards his sword, snatched it up by the pommel and rolled hastily to the side.

With a roar that popped both of Link’s eardrums, the ceiling exploded as a blinding light filled the ruins of the Temple of Time. Link had no time to worry for the hostages trapped amidst the falling debris; a split-second later, the spot he had been standing in erupted as the lightning bolt called by Demise’s blade struck the ground and caused the floor to explode, raining dust and marble shrapnel all around him.

The only thought in Link’s mind as he pushed himself to his feet and ran from the Demon King’s mocking laughter was putting as much distance between them and the others as he could. Fighting Demise by those pillars would spell death for his friends as surely as if Link had slit their throats himself. There wasn’t much space inside the Temple, but he would do what he could. Then, he would need to fight. Fight like he had never fought before. Fight, and pray that it would be enough.

_Din, grant me strength. Farore, grant me courage. Nayru, grant me cunning. And above all else, please… send us a miracle._

Link ran towards the shadows of the corner of the room, back towards where he knew the doorway to the atrium was hiding. From the one window above them and through the windows out in the atrium, Link could see the land around them had darkened; heavy clouds painted the sky, likely in response to Demise’s sudden pyrotechnics. The only light with which to see came from the steadily nearing flames of Demise’s hair and the flashes of lightning from the clouds overhead.

* * *

After about twenty minutes of prolonged silence, probably the longest stretch of time the two of them had gone without saying a word to one another, Groose finally let out an aggravated sigh and declared, “Whelp… I’m callin’ it. We’re lost.”

From her seat behind him astride their majestic avian steed, her arms wound tightly around his (admittedly rock hard) stomach to prevent being bucked off by the constant beating of their bird's massive wings, Marin felt a light-hearted chuckle worm its way out of her mouth.

“Groose, we can’t be lost if we don’t even know where we’re going.”

“Ugh, I don’t need no philosophy right now, Marin. And we do know where we’re goin’- we have to find Midna and Linebeck and the others and get out of this crazy place. Or do you want to stay stuck here for the rest of forever?”

Well, she certainly didn’t want that. As much as she was enjoying Groose’s company, and as amazing as it was to achieve her life-long dream of becoming a master musician and bring the teachings of the Composer Brothers back to the modern world, she was sort of getting saddle-sore riding around on this bird for so long. That, and she did still have a concert she was supposed to be singing at later that night… assuming of course that this was still going down as planned. To be honest she highly doubted that, but she had to keep her spirits up somehow, right?

The duo had been flying in endless monotony ever since leaving Sharp’s cave. Nothing had happened on their journey since; no monsters, no random changes into different sections of the museum, no bumping into any of their other friends. The only even vaguely note-worthy thing to have happened was when an owl burst free from a line of trees somewhere below them, prompting their ride to suddenly shift directions as he swerved after it, beak open wide, ready to eat. They’d barely managed to regain control of the reigns, and by then the owl had vanished. They kept on along their new course, because why not? They were lost anyway. But still, nothing had changed for them other than some slight variations on the landscape below from rocky desert to rocky forest. She was starting to get bored.

“We need a miracle...”

“What was that?”

Nayru above; it was beautiful up here in the clouds, watching the scenery scroll past below them, but the howling of the wind made it difficult to hear sometimes.

“I said we need a miracle!” Groose shouted back. “I mean really, how else besides divine intervention are we gonna find the others and get outta here?”

“I don’t know!” Marin replied back as if Groose’s question wasn’t rhetorical. “Have you tried asking?”

“For what?”

“A miracle!”

Groose twisted around and shot her a confounded look.

“What in Din’s name are you on about, woman?”

“Well, I mean if all these legends are real, and the Triforce is real, then the Goddesses have to be real too, right?”

“Uh...”

“And if they’re real, then maybe they’ll answer our prayers!”

“Don’t you have to, like, sacrifice an animal on an altar or somethin’?”

Marin slapped Groose on the back reprovingly.

“I will not kill an animal for anybody, even a Goddess!”

“Geez, I was kidding!”

“Besides, all you have to do is talk to them, I think. Watch.”

And with that, Marin leaned back and screamed dramatically into the heavens, “Oh, mighty Goddesses, hear my prayer! Um… We’re like, totally lost, so you should, like, tell us where to go or… I dunno, maybe draw us a map or something-!”

“Marin, cut it out!” Groose cried, grabbing her by the arm wrapped around his waist and pulling her in closer so her head bumped against his shoulder blade. “If you keep wigglin’ around like that, you’re gonna knock us both off!”

“But I was asking for a miracle!” she laughed playfully.

“Yeah, and that ‘miracle’ is gonna be us plummeting to our deaths if you don’t chill-”

Without warning, the wind picked up violently. All around them the clouds began growing black and surging together as if guided by some invisible hand, amassing in mere seconds into one enormous thundercloud that hung low over the rocky plateau they were soaring over, casting a visible pallor over the land. 

“Uh, Groose…?”

“This looks bad,” he replied, glancing nervously at the sudden storm. “Maybe we should land?”

Before she could answer, every hair on her body suddenly stood on end.

With a roar of sheer destructive might, a bolt of lightning pierced through the sky, lancing downward in a jagged line, slamming into some sort of building down on the plateau below. Her vision went white from the intensity of the flash, utterly disorienting her, and it took her a moment to realize that she, Groose, and their giant bird companion had been knocked out of the sky by the concussive force of the blast.

Somehow, she’d kept her grip on Groose, who in turn had kept his grip on his makeshift reigns, and after a few moments of tumbling head-over-heels-over-beak and screaming like there was no tomorrow (because honestly, for a moment, there almost wasn’t), the bird managed to right itself pull up into a semi-steady glide.

Marin wasn’t typically afraid of storms. Generally speaking, she thought they were beautiful and loved to watch lightning illuminate her windows at night in brief, violent flashes amidst the steady pitter-patter of the rain and feel the way the rumble of thunder sent shivers of terror and excitement down her spine. But that was all from the safety of her home. In mid-air, astride a giant bird, being the highest thing around for miles, thunderstorms were an entirely different story.

“Put me down!” Marin practically screeched into Groose’s ear. “Put me down! Put me down!”

“Alright, alright!” he hollered back, his face as white as fresh sheet music. “But where? There’s nowhere to go-!”

“There’s gotta be somewhere, just go!”

“It’s a plateau, everything is flat! There’s nowhere to hide, nowhere but that building that-”

“That building is what got hit by lightning in the first place!”

“Yeah, so if we’re close to it the lightning will hit it and not us!”

“That doesn’t even make sense!”

“You don’t make sense!”

“Your mom doesn’t make sense!”

“Alright, I’m goin’ down-”

“No, don’t-! _Aiiieeeee!!!!!_ ”

Groose jerked his makeshift reigns, and with a fearful cry, their giant eagle pitched forward into a perfect dive.

Marin’s scream was lost to the howl of the wind as her stomach lifted out of her body and parachuted off into the great unknown. It was like being on a roller coaster without a track or the safety bar. She probably would have wet herself from sheer terror if every muscle in her body hadn’t already gone completely rigid.

After an eternity of falling (or at least what felt like it), the bird leveled out only a dozen feet or so above the rocky ground, shooting forward like a land speeder and closing the gap between them and the ruins of the ancient building with alarming speed. Eyes peeled against the wind, Marin could still see the lightning flashing overhead; with unnerving accuracy, every single bolt seemed to be angling toward the building in front of them. The closer they got, the more certain Marin felt that this was not someplace she wanted to go. The lightning was heading toward the building, for Goddesses’ sake! Let it distract it for them then, if that’s what it wanted; they should be utilizing this opportunity to run for their lives!

Before Marin could force her mouth to make something like a coherent sound (ever since the bird made its dive, her face had been frozen in a silent scream of absolute terror), something caught her eye.

The building… It looked familiar, like she should know it somehow. Steepled bell tower, stained-glass windows, massive stone staircase leading to towering double-doors… Vines spider-webbed across every available surface of the ancient stone facade. She recognized this place, but how…?

And even more peculiar, the lightning that still rained down on the building occasionally like murderous hail, it never struck the steeple. A giant metal pole sticking out into the heavens, and the lightning seemed to pass it by every time, heading instead towards a hole that had been blown through the ceiling. Was something inside drawing the lightning instead? Did that mean they really were safe as long as it was there?

Despite her reservations, when Groose landed their ride beside the wall of the ancient building, Marin was quick to clamber off alongside him and hurry closer to the ancient, vine-covered walls. There were numerous massive stained-glass windows all along the side of the building. As if spurred on by some innate sense of curiosity, the duo immediately headed over to the nearest one to take a peek inside.

“Where do you think that freak storm came from?” Marin asked conversationally, more in an attempt to distract herself from the rapid pounding of her heart and unsteadiness of her breath than anything else.

“Somethin’ not good, that’s for sure. More important, what do you think this building is?”

“I don’t know, but I swear I’ve seen it somewhere before...” The windows were filthy, and coupled with the ancient, colored, bubbly glass, it was almost impossible to see through them. Frowning, Marin rummaged through her purse until she found one of her old lens cleaners (for her sunglasses, not actual glasses; her vision was 20/20, thankyouverymuch) and began rubbing fretfully at the years of acquired grime.

“You too?” Groose gawked, continuing the conversation she’d already forgotten she’d started. “I thought it was just me! I dunno, don’t you think it looks kinda like that old temple that used to be in Castleton? Y’know, the one with that old sword and-”

Lightning flashed overhead and an explosion rocked the building. Something rumbled inside, like the sound of falling rock and plaster.

Before Marin could ask what that was, one of the tiny decorative pieces of glass that made up a part of the stained-glass window fractured violently as something inside struck it. Marin jumped back with a surprised shriek, but when after a moment nothing else happened, she allowed her defenses to lower.

“Whoa,” Groose muttered at her side, his eyebrows arched. “That’s some crazy lightning. I wonder what it’s hitting inside...”

Leaning forward, Groose prodded the broken segment of the window with a thick, calloused finger, causing the glass to tumble inwards, opening up a tiny peephole into the building. With a mocking bow, Groose courteously offered her the first glance.

Snickering at the stupidity of it all, Marin quickly bent forward to examine their new surroundings, not-so-secretly hoping that she wasn’t about to be beaned in the eye by another piece of airborne shrapnel.

What she saw made her internal organs turn to jelly.

The room inside was opulent, if dimly lit. Large and rectangular, it looked like some sort of dusty old entry hall roughly the size of Ordon High’s gymnasium, which sounded about right for some fancy ancient temple one would find atop an abandoned plateau in a magic museum. Or so she thought; she didn’t really have a lot of experience hanging out in old temples.

Through a few rows of cracked pillars, she could see numerous other tall stained-glass windows on the opposite wall and what looked like an old altar over to her right. That wasn’t what frightened her, however.

Dust was billowing out of a hole that had clearly just been blown through the wall just behind the altar, leaving a massive opening into some sort of circular chamber near the temple’s center. The peephole she was using wasn’t very large, so she couldn’t see very much, but something in the darkness was glowing an ominous red. Something that was steadily drawing closer to them, something with glowing eyes and a terrible, hulking form.

"Oh, Goddesses..." Marin breathed, feeling faint. "Groose, I think there's a monster in there..."

“So?” Groose replied, looking unimpressed. “Marin, there’s monsters all over the place in here. We just took out a bunch not too long ago. Din, I’m pretty sure this bird we’ve been ridin’ on is a monster. If it ain’t botherin’ nobody, let’s just move on.”

Lightning flashed overhead once more, only this time, with the little opening they had in the form of a broken window, Marin was able to see what was attracting the frequent bursts of electricity- the massive, jagged sword the monster held clutched in his hand. As she watched, the lightning struck the blade, illuminating the metal in an ethereal bluish glow before, with a powerful swing, the beast thrust his mighty weapon forward and hurled the condensed electrical energy across the room like it was playing Jai-Alai with the elements.

The bolt of lightning branched outward from his blade faster than Marin could blink, tearing greater chunks out of the already emaciated partition and obliterating one of the decorative pillars. The entire building shook with the force of the bang that was so loud it set Marin’s head spinning and nearly knocked her off her feet. Groose seized her arm and pulled her back a split-second too late, but in that moment, right as the lightning flashed and the inner corners of the hall were illuminated, Marin saw the silhouette of a boy.

“Alright, we’re clearin’ outta here," Groose demanded, seizing Marin by her shoulder and hauling her backward, away from the window. "Any second now this building is going to come down on top of us."

“No, wait!” Marin cried, hastily rubbing her eyes as if her fists could somehow restore her vision. “Somebody’s in there! Somebody’s fighting that- that thing! We have to go, we have to help them!”

Groose paused in the act of dragging her away, looking half-exasperated, half-concerned.

“Wait… you sure?”

“Yes!”

“I mean, it’s pretty dark in there-”

“ _Groose!_ What if it’s one of our friends?!”

He threw his hands up defensively. “Ok, Ok! Geez! It’s just… I mean, what are the odds that we just _happened_ to fly straight to a building that _happened_ to have someone we know inside it, and just _happened_ to encounter a storm there that just _happened_ to force us to land next to it, just in time to help them out? I mean, that’s a little ridiculous, right?”

“You have super strength and a giant eagle, and _convenient timing_ is the thing you choose to take issue with?”

Groose rolled his eyes. “I’m just sayin’… maybe something wants you to think someone needs your help… Whatever. Let ol’ Groose take a look before we go flyin’ in, guns blazing.”

Striding closer to the window, Groose shoved his larger, gauntleted hand through the opening and grabbed the edge of the glass. With a grunt, he ripped his arm backward and tore a watermelon-sized portion of the glass free, fracturing the surrounding pieces.

“Hmph. See? Now we can take a better look...”

His words trailed off as his jaw went slack. Nervous, Marin hastily stepped up behind him and took another peek inside, her vision now only mostly marred by blue and purple afterimages.

The large, dim entryway was exactly as she left it, only dustier. The hole in the wall behind the altar had grown so large now that almost the entirety of the back room was visible, although it was so far away that it was tough to make out exactly what was back there. Not that that mattered, though; all of her and Groose’s attention was focused on the hulking figure who was stomping his way out of the opening, his hair ablaze with actual flame, a massive blade in his scaly hand. Now that Marin could see all of him, he seemed even larger than before if that were possible.

“Farore above…” Groose whispered, awestruck. “Do you see that dude’s hair?”

It took Marin a moment to notice the other figure sprinting through the dim interior lighting.

She punched Groose in the arm in excitement. “Groose! Groose, that’s… That’s Link!”

“What? Hero’s in jail, there’s no way he’s-”

“No, look! It’s him, right there!”

"Well, I'll be..." Groose replied, rubbing his chin thoughtfully while Link sprinted through the darkness away from the gradually approaching threat. "Where'd he get that sword and shield from? And why is he fighting this weird fire dude?”

“I don’t know...” Marin replied, feeling anxious. “Do you think he needs our help?”

Movement to the right caught their eye, and they turned in unison toward the massive hole in the back of the wall. There, floating in front of the gap, was the boy in the mask from earlier.

“Not that masked brat,” Groose cursed softly. “Nayru, Link really is in trouble.” 

“What’s going on back there?” Marin asked, straining her eyes in a vain attempt to peer through the darkness. “I can’t see past those pillars… Is someone tied to them? And… there’s this kind of glowy magic thingy way in the back that I can’t see…”

“Looks like it. You think the masked punk is doin’ that? It… it kinda looks like someone’s in there, but I can’t… hey wait, I think that’s Midna!”

“How can you tell?” Marin asked, aggravated. “That’s so far away!”

“Heh, not when you’ve got peepers like mine. You spend too much time reading sheet music; your eyes are probably going bad.”

She slapped his arm again. “Don’t say that!”

“Will you quit hittin’ me?!”

“Fine,” Marin harrumphed, still offended. “Well, we should probably get in there, huh? We can rush in all dramatic and save Link from the giant monster- we’ll be heroes!”

“Nah, you’re thinkin’ with your heart and not your head. I mean I get it; part of me wants to get in there and get those guys to safety as soon as possible, and another part of me wants to go help Link. Y’know, tag team that giant fire-head dude and knock ‘em down a peg or two, even though we’ll both probably die in the process, all dramatic like. But doesn’t it make more sense to try and save Midna and the others from that masked kid first? That way, instead of three-against-one, it’ll be nine-against-one. Improvin’ our chances of saving the hostages and helping Link. Y’see? Math.”

Marin blinked, astounded that she hadn’t thought of that, but then bit her lip in concern as doubts began cropping up.

“I mean, I guess that makes sense, but… How are we supposed to save them? I don’t know how to take apart weird magic bubble prisons, and if we mess up or take too long, Link and the others might...”

“Heh, that ain’t no problem. The Groosenator already knows how to handle this biz.” A sinister smirk flashed its way across his face as he punched a gauntleted fist into his palm with a menacing grunt. “When all else fails, knock ‘em out. We hit that kid as hard as we can, and when he conks out, the magic barrier should fall. Or, if not, we’ll just rip the stupid thing off his face and tear it to pieces. Problem solved.”

“Maybe...”

“Maybe nuthin’! It’s game time, Marin! The huddle’s over, we gotta make our play!” And with that, Groose swiftly straightened to his full hulking height, towering over Marin and beaming down at her with all of the confidence that she didn’t possess. After a brief pause, he offered a hand to her. “Are you with me, or are you with me?”

She couldn’t help but laugh as she slid her hand into his. “I’m with you.”

“Alrighty then!” he cried, wringing her arm like an eccentric salesman. “Let’s get this party started! So I’m thinkin’ we fly in on Captain Falcon here, smash through a window or somethin’ to get his attention and then maybe lasso him with my chain-”

“Actually,” Marin cut in, leaving Groose spluttering as he tripped over the rest of his speech, “if we’re trying to catch him, wouldn’t it make more sense to split up?”

A heavy frown settled across Groose’s face. “Well… I mean yeah, but we can’t exactly split up if we only got one bird.”

“It’s ok, I’ll just call my own ride!”

And with a grand flourish, she drew one of the myriad flutes out of her purse (more of a horn with finger holes, really) and set it against her lips. The tune it played was high and more than a little reedy as it echoed off the temple’s outer walls and out across the countryside.

For a moment, nothing happened, and the confused look marring Groose’s features only grew more pronounced. An awkward, embarrassed silence settled over the teens.

Groose shot Marin an uncomfortable, apologetic sort of look. “Um… I don’t think-”

“There!” Marin cut in once again, pointing off over the taller boy’s shoulder. Groose turned, perplexed, and instantly threw himself down with a startled squawk as the form of a massive blue bear came soaring out of the skies behind him.

“Mooshy!” Marin squealed delightedly once the creature had settled down on its gargantuan haunches with an enormous, placid yawn, apparently oblivious to the going-ons around him as the redheaded teen threw her arms around his fluffy neck, careful not to squish his tiny, cherubic wings.

“What… but… How long have you had a flying bear?!”

“Oh, um… I dunno,” she chirped absently as she scratched at a spot beneath the bear’s ear, making him growl appreciatively. “But I mean he’s not really _my_ bear, he just likes the sound of my flute, I guess. He saved me and Linebeck from a robot zombie skeleton pirate earlier. I kinda forgot all about him until right now. Isn’t that silly?”

Groose was rubbing his temples as though fighting off a headache.

“Flying blue bears… why not? Got anything else in that bag of yours? A talking dinosaur maybe?”

Marin frowned, perplexed. “Hmm… I don’t know. I guess we can find out-”

“No, Marin, I was kidding. We don’t exactly have time for this either. Alright, so… I’ll break the glass with my chain ball and go bustin’ in guns blazing, causing a distraction and hopefully catching the masked freak off-guard. If I don’t manage to snag him with my chain, I’ll need your help to corner him, alright?”

“Ok!” Marin replied, only half paying attention as she clambered up onto Moosh’s back. It was really hard to ride on magical animals when you were wearing skirts. The next time she went off on a crazy magical adventure, she was wearing jeans. Thankfully, Moosh didn’t really seem to mind all the fidgeting she was doing; he just sat there, staring at the wall like a lump. He was adorable like that.

“Cool,” Groose replied, turning his attention back to his bird. “Alright bud, we’re goin’ in. Are you good to go? It’s gonna be a tight fit, but you should still be able to fly around a little bit. What d’you think, you up for it?”

The bird let out a triumphant cry and puffed out its feathers. Clearly, he was exhausted from all the carrying he’d been doing that day, but Groose’s confidence seemed to be catching. With a whoop, Groose hoisted himself back atop the giant bird’s back and adjusted his seat, carefully holding the massive chained ball up and away from the creature’s wings.

“Ready, Marin?”

“Aye aye, Cap’n!”

“Alright then… Remember, try to let me distract him first, alright? Then you sneak up and nab him.”

“Roger that. Oh, and Groose?”

“Hmm?” he replied, already twirling his massive spiked chain ball over his head, ready to hurl it forward through the massive stained glass window.

“I just… In case things go badly in there, I just wanted to say thanks, you know? For everything. I’m really glad I got to meet you.”

Groose’s face flushed red, a little uncharacteristic, but his smirk and the cocky gleam in his eye was one-hundred percent him.

“Heh, you make it sound like we could lose. Don’t worry - between the two of us, we got this. Now let’s go save the day.”

And with a heavy grunt, he whipped the chain ball forward.

* * *

With a strangled cry, Link hurled himself to the side just in time to avoid another bolt of lightning, this one slamming into the wall in front of him and literally tearing it apart, raining dust and debris out into the once-resplendent atrium.

Well… at least now the door was bigger.

Sweat and grime covered Link’s face as he heaved himself to his feet and stumbled on. The chamber he’d been in with the others wasn’t large; maybe the size of a peewee baseball diamond, if even that big. It wasn’t too much of a run, really, but dodging the lightning was getting exhausting. The worst part was, he could tell Demise was toying with him. If he had wanted to, he could have zapped Link into oblivion the moment the duel had started. Instead, he was making him embarrass himself by running around like a cockroach fleeing from a bug zapper. The demon’s haunting laughter was always just one step behind.

Still, insane as he was, Demise’s need to gloat was paying off for Link. Sure, he hadn’t exactly tried to turn and take the fight to him quite yet, but that was because he was trying to gain space for the two to fight full-out without risking his friends. Demise must have known this, because the lightning bolts he kept sending out were herding Link in circles, preventing him from heading back towards the atrium, a room easily twice as large as this one. Definitely ample space for the duo to duke it out. Assuming, of course, he ever made it there. That was why the recent hole in the wall was such a boon; his avenue of escape was now much larger.

With a grin that was half-relieved and half-jubilant, Link stumbled through the broken opening and rounded the altar, leaping down the steps and setting off into the heart of the atrium, trusting Demise to follow.

And follow he did. There was a smirk on the Demon King’s stony face as he stooped below the broken wall and calmly strode after Link, taking the opposite stairs on the other side of the altar, his bare feet padding softly on the dusty stone floors as his flaming hair glinted off the multitudinous windows, casting dancing shadows behind the rows of pillars.

“How far do you intend to run, Hero?” Demise asked, not needing to raise his voice as his question echoed all around the room. “I’m disappointed. If you are searching for escape, there is none. If you search for help, know only that no one can save you. It is a futile effort.”

With a roar of shattering glass, something came hurtling in through one of the stained-glass windows behind him, causing both Link and Demise to freeze in their tracks and gawk as shards of multicolored glass fell glittering through the air.

Whatever it was looked like a round hunk of metal, only before Link could get a good look it quickly retracted back outside to wherever it had come from.

Um… what?

A moment later, a massive, hulking figure waddled in through the newly formed opening, silhouette stark against the bursts of lightning outside like a scene from a lame student film. Squinting through the dim lighting, it took Link a moment to make out the sheen of multiple glossy feathers, the curve of a wicked beak, two awkward three-toed feet… It was a bird. A giant bird. Walking in through the window. And there, up above on its back, was some sort of weirdly shaped lump…

“Aw yeah!” a brash, familiar voice suddenly cried from the direction of the bird. “It’s game time, folks! The Groose is Loose!”

And with an almighty shriek, the bird expanded its enormous wings and began struggling fitfully for takeoff.

Link could only stare, utterly dumbfounded, as Groose and his massive avian monstrosity attempted to navigate the comparatively small confines of the insides of the Temple of Time. With every flap, the bird’s wings clipped a pillar or a segment of wall and it would let out an indignant shriek as if it were somehow the building's fault that a bird was trying to fly in it.

Something followed along in Groose’s shadow; large, but not nearly as large as him and his bird, it looked sort of like another person astride some other type of animal, though in the gloom he couldn’t quite make out who or what they were. Some sort of fuzzy ball, he thought, and on its back… long, red hair… Marin? Who else could it be? Who else in the museum had long, red hair?

Groose and Marin… of all the people in the entire world, these were the last two Link would have expected to show up to pull a daring rescue, even considering how few people were actually in the museum with him. Actually… he had forgotten all about them up until right now. He hadn’t noticed their absence from the Masked Boy’s makeshift prison cell, and presumably, his enemies hadn’t either. Weird. Everything about this situation was just weird. Was this what the Goddesses had in mind when he’d asked for a miracle? If this was some sort of joke, Link wasn’t laughing.

Demise didn’t seem all that amused either.

“Majora!” the Demon King barked, his face all hard-angles like an anvil. “What is the meaning of this interruption? I thought you were to deal with the insects!”

“Yes, Master!” came a high-pitched cry from beyond the broken wall. “My mistake! I forgot… er, I did not think these maggots worth my notice! They will be dealt with immediately!”

“Heh, not if I deal with you first, punk!” Groose interrupted, seemingly completely unaware of the fact that he was sassing two of the world’s most dangerous demons while riding on a bird that was struggling to stay airborne. With a grunt, he somehow managed to get his giant bird to turn around and enter through the giant hole that Demise had blasted through the wall, heading very slowly to confront Majora.

In spite of himself, Link found himself edging closer to Demise and the room that he had just worked so hard to get out of. Part of him was screaming that it was foolish to get so close to his enemy, that he should be utilizing this moment to strike at his foe while he was distracted, and yet somehow, neither he nor Demise seemed to be capable of taking their gaze away from the absurd spectacle evolving in front of them. It’s like when you drive past an accident on the highway and you know that you should be paying attention to the road in front of you but you just can’t help but stare.

Groose was about to become the next accident on the highway.

His giant bird-steed struggled to gain altitude; though the ceiling in the back room was higher and the walls wider, it still wasn’t exactly large. Park of Link wanted to call out and ask Groose what part of flying a giant bird into a building seemed like a good idea, but the last thing Link wanted was to cause the distraction that cost the arrogant jock his life. Still, it was probably the stupidest thing Link had ever seen. He was basically one giant target.

Majora seemed to be thinking along the same train of thought.

“Well now,” he tittered as he swooped down on his prey, his voice still caught up in that weird, echoing voice pattern, as though several little boys were reading a script together but couldn’t get their timing right. “Just what are you supposed to be?”

“The Groose is what he is, you masked freak,” Groose spat back. “But what I’m about to do to you? That’s called revenge, for all the crap you put me and my friends through. And for a sleepy little village that you destroyed for fun.”

The masked boy cackled gleefully as he did a little caper in midair.

“Oh no, I’m so scared! Whatever am I gonna- Whoa!”

He jerked himself upward a split-second before Groose’s bird managed to catch him in its beak. It gave a cranky snap, clearly upset at having missed its meal.

“Haha, missed me!”

“How ‘bout this?!” Groose shouted, twirling some sort of chain over his head before whipping it towards the boy which he dodged by flipping himself upside down.

“Wow, you stink at this game!” he cackled, hugging himself and kicking his little feet in the air. “At this rate, it’ll take you another twenty years before you catch me!”

Link was inclined to agree; maybe if Groose stopped shouting and telegraphing his every attack, then maybe the masked boy wouldn’t be able to dodge them so effectively…

Something rose out of the shadows behind Majora on silent, absurd, cupid-like wings.

It was a massive blue bear. Just when Link thought that he’d seen all the crazy that this world had to offer. And there, straddled on its back…

With a grunt, Marin whipped her purse forward, smacking the masked boy across the head with her heavy designer bag. The little boy let out a startled cry as he spun to the side and smashed comically into the wall. There was a moment in which his body dipped down as if he’d lost control of his powers for a second, but he managed to catch himself before tumbling down to the cement floor below.

In that brief moment, right after Majora’s head had hit the wall, the flickering orange-and-purple cage that had imprisoned Midna blinked out of existence.

“Ha! Now who stinks!” Groose shouted to nobody as Marin let out a cry of joy. For a moment, Link nearly forgot himself and moved to join them, stupefaction and delight visible on his sweaty face.

Had Groose and Marin just managed to turn things around…?

“Incompetence,” Demise muttered, just barely loud enough for Link to make out. From his position near the altar, he had a much better view of the other room than Link did, and a much better view of Groose’s back as it bobbed up and down atop his frantically flapping pet.

Realization hit Link a moment too late. Eyes suddenly growing wide, Link pushed himself forward at a dead sprint, shield and sword held aloft, eager to close the distance between Demise and Groose as quickly as possible, but he wasn’t quick enough. His shout of warning was lost to the other boy as he clogged his ears with his own shout of victory.

With an indifferent expression, Demise pointed his sword toward the heavens once more and, with a resounding bang, another bolt of lightning tore through the ceiling to power his blade, raining shingles and broken latticework down upon his bare chest. With a snarl, he jerked his blade forward and redirected the lightning bolt with unerring accuracy toward his target…

There was another blinding flash and a cry of pain.

When his vision cleared, Link was met with the sight of a giant bird lying on its side, its feet erect, its feathers burned and askew, its chest unmoving. On the floor beside it rested a massive spiked ball on a thick silver chain, but of Groose there was no sign. Link felt his heart leap into his throat. Sure, he’d never really been close to Groose, and the guy had been a massive pain in rear ever since he’d moved to Ordon earlier that year, but that didn’t mean he wanted him dead!

“Groose!” Link shouted, sprinting towards the fallen bird, ignoring Demise’s contented smirk as he leaped up the opposite stairs and rounded the altar, hoping against hope that he was wrong.

To his immense relief, he found the larger boy laying on his back behind the altar, his face screwed up in a rictus of pain as he slowly massaged his thick skull.

“Aw Din, that smarts...”

“Groose! Groose, you’re alive!” Link laughed, relieved, falling to his knees and helping the larger boy up into a sitting position.

“Yeah, for the moment… I dunno what happened, one minute I was fine and then...”

His eyes focused in on the body lying directly across from him, and Link could only watch as Groose’s heart broke in two.

“Oh, no...” he breathed, golden irises growing wide, large mouth falling open in disbelief. “No, it can’t be...”

“You waste my time, Hero,” Demise rumbled from his position at the bottom of the stairs, his face stern and impassive. “Are we going to have our duel or not?”

A snarl snuck its way out of Groose’s mouth.

“You… You killed my bird… You freak...”

Before Link could stop him, Groose shoved his way to his feet and snatched up the massive ball and chain from off the ground, swinging it up and twirling it over his head with remarkable ease.

“I’ll kill you!”

“You may try,” Demise replied, aiming his sword skyward once more.

“Groose, wait!”

Link didn’t know what kind of metal that spiked ball was made of, but knowing his luck, Groose was about two seconds away from being roasted alive just like his bird friend, and there wasn’t anything Link could do to stop it.

Without really pausing to think, Link threw himself forward right as the lightning bolt arced down through the ceiling, colliding with Demise’s sword.

Ducking low under the swinging weight of Groose’s improbable weapon, he rammed his shoulder into the larger boy’s solar plexus, startling him and knocking him off balance, the massive ball falling low and missing Link’s head by inches. At the last possible second, as Demise turned to hurl his lighting forward and wipe Link and Groose off the face of the planet entirely, Link closed his eyes and, without really thinking, forgetting he’d done something similar in his earlier battle with Ganondorf, drew his shield up to cover his face.

Electricity struck the shield, sending every hair on his body standing on end… and nothing happened.

Blinking in shock, hardly daring to believe he was alive, Link slowly lowered his shield and shot Demise a perplexed look, half wondering if this was what the afterlife looked like for Heroes who failed.

For the first time since his resurrection, Demise looked truly angry.

“That shield…” he grated, his voice sounding like two tectonic plates rubbing together, “I should have realized immediately. Just like your puny blade, it was blessed by a Goddess. Hylia granted you that shield in a past life. Even disgraced and cast down, she protects her Hero still. Pathetic worm… When will she know her place?!”

Link was stunned. His shield was blessed by a Goddess called Hylia? Wait… hadn’t Ghirahim used that name earlier? Something about a Goddess turning herself into a mortal and…

It hit him then, what he should have realized earlier only Ghirahim had been talking too much for him to see it clearly.

Zelda was Hylia in a past life. This shield was blessed by Hylia which was what kept him and Groose safe from Demise’s lightning. If Zelda was Hylia, then… it was Zelda that was protecting Link. Even while imprisoned, even when her soul was absorbed by an extraterrestrial Demon, she was still watching out for him.

With everything that had been going on, Link hadn’t actually had the opportunity to pause and consider Zelda’s fate. Her body remained shackled to a hunk of stone in the other room, and if Ghirahim had been telling the truth, her soul had been sacrificed to bring Demise back from the dead. So then… Was she…?

He shook his head fiercely, refusing to let the sudden, fierce despair that wallowed up inside of him take control. Zelda _wasn’t_ gone. She couldn’t be. He refused to believe it. As long as he had this shield, she was right there, fighting beside him. Together they would take Demise down and rescue their friends. And then, once he was gone, would her soul…? No, stop, focus on the fight…

“Whoa,” Groose stated blankly, peeking out from behind Link and giving himself a brief once-over. “How’re we not dead, dude?”

“No time to explain,” Link replied quickly, readying his sword and his shield. Now that Demise knew that his lightning wouldn’t work on him, he would resort to physical violence, and Link needed to be ready. More than that, though, he needed to be free of distractions.

“Groose, I need you to climb back over your bird and get to the others-”

“What?” he exclaimed, his voice at its usual unnecessary volume. “No way, Link, I can’t leave you alone with this freak show-!”

“Groose, shut up and listen to me for a second!” Demise still hadn’t moved, but he was glaring at Link’s shield as though it had done him some personal affront. “Zelda and the others are trapped. They may be hurt, but they definitely need help. Groose, there are kids in there… I need you to go back and get them out. Take out Majora if you can, but whatever you do, get those kids out of here, alright?”

Groose looked like he wanted to argue, but the line about the children had him faltering. Honestly, Link had half-expected Groose to tell Link to shut his trap and let ‘The Groose’ handle business from here on out; to his immense surprise, however, that’s not what happened.

“Uh… Right! Don’t worry, bud, we got your back!”

Bud? Since when was Groose his bud?

"Look, Hero. Me and the others will take care of that masked kid and get the others to safety, so don't worry about us… but when we're done, we're comin’ back to help you, got it? So don’t you go dyin’ on me!”

Before Link could respond, Groose had already lobbed his spiked ball over the fallen body of his pet and had scrambled over himself.

In spite of everything going on, Link felt a small smile grace his face. Who would’ve thought that after all of this, Groose might turn out to be a pretty stand-up guy? Today was just a day full of revelations…

The even bigger surprise was Demise not making a move until Groose’s rear end had vanished over the corpse of his bird.

“Now that the buffoon is gone, are you finally ready to face me like a man?”

Link shook his head in disbelief. Even after all that had happened, he was still willing to wait for Link to be at his best? Giving him back his weapons, following Link to an open area (though he’d toyed with him first, let’s not forget that), letting Groose leave without taking advantage of the moment to strike… If it weren’t for the whole ‘destroy the world’ thing, Link might actually be tempted to think Demise was pretty alright. Even Demons could show good sportsmanship, he supposed. He must’ve been really lonely over the last several millennia.

Shaking off his nerves, Link readied his weapons. In one hand, a shield blessed by Hylia, the physical embodiment of the person Link had cared most about throughout all of his many, disparate lives. In the other hand, the legendary Blade of Evil’s Bane, forged in the fires of the Golden Three, the one and only weapon capable of striking down the greatest threat the world had ever known. If Link wasn’t ready now, then he never would be.

“You know, Hero… There truly is something different about you… Some quality you possess now that you did not have before… I wonder if our dance will show me what that is?”

The Triforce glittered on the back of Link’s hand. Voices rose from the other room, the sound of frantic movement, of battle.

With a wordless snarl, Link charged to meet his foe.


	33. On a Puppet's Strings

Marin's purse struck the masked boy's head, the masked boy's head hit the wall, and just like that, the barrier that had been holding Midna imprisoned winked out of existence like the popping of an effervescent bubble.

Midna, who had been leaning up against the smooth, glass-like surface of her prison cell watching Groose and Marin’s dramatic entry with no little trepidation of her own suddenly found herself pitching forward as the wall vanished, arms windmilling comically as she struggled not to lose her balance.

Righting herself, she instantly turned and threw herself towards her shoulder bag that Majora had tossed aside so casually. Not the first of their mistakes, it would seem, if Groose and Marin’s surprise appearance was any indication. Snatching the bag from off the ground, she whirled back to face the room at large, heart hammering in her throat as she considered what the next best course of action would be.

“Hah, now who stinks?!” she heard Groose crow from astride his massive avian war machine.

Where on earth had he gotten a bird that big, and how was he riding it?! Actually, she didn’t want to know. One of the many things she’d learned that night was that Groose was capable of accomplishing feats she’d never before thought possible. If anyone could tame a giant eagle and ride it, it was him.

She found she was surprised that her initial instinct to race to untie Sheik was suddenly conflicted by her desire to assault Groose with one of her patented flying jump-tackles; somewhere in their frantic attempts to save that podunk little town from the moon, he’d become a friend, and she was embarrassed to admit to herself just then that in the intervening time between their separation at the mirror in the desert and his bold rescue here in the temple, she’d completely forgotten he’d even existed.

Before she could make up her mind over which direction to run, however, a blinding light flashed across the room, a piercing bang echoed off the walls, and before she could react, a bolt of lightning, no doubt from the behemoth of a demon Link was currently battling in the other room, tore through the air and collided with Groose’s ride.

Between one second and the next, the giant eagle was down on the ground, limbs askew, feathers burned, body still. Of Groose, there was no sign.

Terror gripped Midna’s heart then, and she found herself in a dead sprint towards the gaping hole in the wall that was now partially obscured by a massive bird corpse. Sheik and the others still needed her help, but at the moment they weren’t in immediate danger. That lightning bolt… if the charge had surged through to Groose, he would be the ground steaming like an over-cooked ham, but if she was lucky, the lightning hadn’t burned him. If she was lucky, maybe his heart had only stopped, and she could use CPR like they do in the movies and bring him back to life. Right? That’s how it worked, right?

Before Midna even made it three steps, however, an aggravated scream pierced the air and Midna was forcibly knocked to her knees, the weight of some heavy, malignant aura pushing down on her like a virulent gale of pure malice.

Out of the corner of her one good-eye, Midna saw Marin and her fat blue bear tumble down to the ground. Overhead, silhouetted before the one singular stained-glass window that provided the dim illumination for the room, floated the boy with the skull t-shirt, the wide eyes of Majora’s Mask gazing maddeningly down on them like a child with a magnifying glass above a colony of ants.

“You...” he breathed, his voice raspy and distorted, resounding throughout the room as though from a loudspeaker, “Pathetic little bugs, you dare…?”

And suddenly, he was having a fit. Hands pulling at his hair, feet stamping (though how that was possible, seeing as he was floating in midair, Midna didn’t know), head tossing like a frightened horse. With every stomp of his airborne foot, the building seemed to shake, sending dust raining down from overhead like a filthy mist, and the scream that tore itself from behind his mask, equal parts frustration and sheer torture, exploded throughout the room, jabbing into Midna’s brain like needles.

When his scream finally stopped and Midna was able to look up, she was surprised to find that Marin had tumbled to the ground only a few yards away.

“You ok?” the new girl asked, and for a bizarre moment, Midna was struck by the fact that she didn’t think she and the new girl had ever said more than a handful of words to each other.

“What in the world…?” Midna winced, digging her pinky into her ear in an attempt to clear up some of the deafness she was currently experiencing. She suddenly had a whole new frame of reference for when authors described something as a ‘banshee-like wail’.

Up above, the masked boy’s hands were clenched in tightly-trembling fists, his every muscle rigid as he glowered down at them behind the protection of his mask.

“Why?” he suddenly blurted out, sounding obnoxious and petulant. “Why do you keep getting in the way? I’m just playing, why can’t you just let me have fun! Why do big kids always have to ruin everything?! Just shut up and mind your own business!”

“Is he kidding?” Marin asked, supporting her weight against her large ursine friend, but Midna merely shook her head. The situation was more complicated than she knew how to answer. The kid was a loose cannon, wielding way more firepower than any emotionally unstable orphan child ought to ever even come in contact with. Who was even talking right now anyway? The boy, or the demon? It sounded like the boy, but… how far had the two merged? Was there even a difference between them now?

“You all just… You think you can boss me around because you’re bigger and older, well you can’t! You’re not my parents, you’re not my friends! You’re nobodies! Nobodies don’t matter! Nobodies don’t get opinions! And… and…!” Here his voice changed again, growing deeper, more mature, but just as filled with hate. “And nobody is going to embarrass me in front of my Master on the day of his rebirth!”

He let out another scream, forcing both girls to hastily clamp their hands over their ears, but it turned out that this particular scream wasn’t geared towards turning their innards into pudding. Arms and legs thrust outward, mask facing up as though shouting defiance at the very Goddesses themselves, a dark, sinister shallow fell over the masked boy.

Like puss from a festering wound, gobs of black, liquid evil began frothing up out of the ground below him, spreading over a large section of the floor, gently flowing together like a time-lapse film of melting clay figures played in reverse. Within seconds, the shadows began coalescing into recognizable forms.

A man-sized lizard. A cluster of goblins. A massive, pig-faced orc with a wooden shield. A skeletal warrior. A pitch-black suit of armor. A spider the size of a horse. A snarling wolf. A ghost. A massive centaur.

Moments later, Midna and Marin found themselves face-to-face with a veritable army of monsters. If it weren’t for the day she’d just had, she wouldn’t have believed her eyes. As it was, she felt her stomach plummet as the odds of their survival swiftly began to dwindle.

As the masked boy’s army continued to grow before them, the two lonely teens felt their nerve start to waver.

“Gods,” Marin breathed, her voice unusually high, even for her. “We… we’ll be overrun… we need to get out of here-!”

“We can’t just leave!” Midna shot back, not sounding nearly as brave as she’d hoped. “What about Sheik and the others? The orphans? What about Link, we can’t just abandon him-!”

“I don’t want to leave them either, but I don’t think we can handle this alone-!”

“Then what do you propose we do?!”

“We can go back to help Link and then come back-!”

Midna’s jaw worked, struggling to come up with a response, but no sound came out. Running away wasn’t an option for various reasons, not the least among them being because she wouldn’t stand for them abandoning their friends, and also because they didn’t exactly have an avenue of escape, what with Link keeping that giant demon occupied in the outer room.

An army of monsters… an actual army of monsters… They couldn’t do this, it was too much, they were just a couple of teenagers! They may have gotten lucky a time or two during Majora’s tests, but this… Fighting off an army and its super-powered demon leader while simultaneously protecting a bunch of hostages? No, they’d need trained professionals for a stunt like this, but the only person she knew with experience taking down demons was currently battling another one all on his own.

She found her eyes drifting of their own volition towards the ring of pillars where the rest of her friends were being held captive. Innocent little orphans strung up by their wrists. Her classmates, barely conscious, detained for some twisted ritual. Zelda, her best friend, possibly dead against the rock slab between them. And Sheik, her boyfriend, finally reunited after a night of nightmares only to be torn apart all over again. He was so close, and yet… Even if she ran to him now, Majora’s monsters would easily overrun them. She couldn’t do this, none of them could do this. This wasn’t fair, this was-!

The giant, dead eagle blocking their only exit shifted, and for a wild second Midna thought that Majora had brought it back to life to fight against them as well.

A moment later, a large, redheaded teen tumbled over the side of its body, hitting the floor with a loud grunt, landing flat on his butt. Everything about him was familiar, from his wide-set shoulders to his messy, slightly torn rugby jersey, to the ludicrous pompadour that now sat crookedly on his head.

Something like hope exploded into her chest, like a ray of light piercing through a blanket of storm clouds.

Groose had survived the lightning bolt that killed his bird.

From across the room she watched in surprise and joy as their unexpected hero rose clumsily to his feet, dusting off the back of his jeans as he examined his fallen friend. She thought she saw him bow his head and draw a little triangle over his heart, but a moment later he was scanning the floor around him, bending over and hefting up his ludicrously large ball-and-chain in his ostentatious golden gauntlets, turning around to face the room full-on and letting his jaw fall open in comical shock as he took in the scene.

Majora’s monstrous army had grown three times in size by now, taking up almost a quarter of the room. It wouldn’t be long before they reached the ring of pillars, but none of them had moved yet. For some reason, all of them were facing Midna and Marin.

Her initial assumption was that Groose would turn tail and climb right back over the dead bird and flee, but she immediately shook the thought off. A cowardly act like that didn’t jive with the Groose she’d come to know that night, the Groose who wept for a town he’d failed to save, the Groose who broke through a window to save them at great personal risk. She decided instead that he’d probably awkwardly shuffle his way around the far side of the ring of pillars and try to reach them.

He did neither.

Instead, he sent her a crooked grin, hoisted his clunky weapon over his head, and charged straight at the horde of monsters, screaming his team’s battle cry, “ _Ordon Goats!!!_ ”

Finally, Majora’s army moved. A majority began surging towards Midna, marching with slow, deliberate, ominous steps, but a small bit broke off to approach Groose. Oddly enough, none of them moved towards the pillars. Her one free eye fixated itself on Majora, and in an instant she understood: he was mad at them, so he was attacking them. Like a child blinded by rage, he only saw those who stepped in to ruin his fun. The hostages no longer mattered to him. They were safe… for the moment. At least until they tried to free them.

“Groose!” Marin shouted, stepping forward, hand outstretched as though she could reach him, and Midna was momentarily surprised to see what looked like tears of relief in her eyes.

Before she could take a second step, however, Midna had reached out and snagged her arm. Her heart was pounding its own impression into her ribcage. They had seconds until the monsters reached them and everything fell apart. If this was going to work, this was literally their only chance.

“Marin,” she began, trying to work as much confidence as she could muster into her tone; she didn’t know Marin at all, really, but the bubbly airhead was the last person she would have chosen to fight a losing battle with. Still, if all you have is a hammer… “If we want to have a shot of surviving this, we have to get the others down from the pillars. I can break their chains with magic, but I can’t do that and fight monsters at the same time. I know this is going to sound crazy, but-“

Marin surprised her again but cutting her off.

“You need me and Groose to try and hold them off alone. Got it.”

Midna blinked several times in rapid succession. There she was, trying to sound confident so as not to frighten Marin any more than she already was, and yet… It was Marin whose voice was reassuring her.

“I usually do solos, but I think I can handle an ensemble number this time,” she continued with a playful wink that did not feel at all appropriate for their tense situation. “We can’t buy you much time, though, so you should hurry.”

And then, without another word, Marin turned back to the monster horde that was seconds from reaching them and, brandishing a pearl-white baton that she drew from her purse, she let out a furious “Charge!” as together, she and her pet bear met the monsters head-on.

The bear crashed into the front ranks like a bowling ball, roaring furiously as it tore through the monsters with savage intensity. Marin, for her part, sliced the baton forward like the monsters were an orchestra under her command, and a violent gale whipped through the room, catching the monsters off-guard and sending them crashing to the ground.

Giving herself a violent shake, Midna hastened forward towards the ring of pillars. There was no time to waste; Groose and Marin were doing their best, but their best couldn’t possibly buy her more than seconds.

She reached the ring and made a bee-line for Sheik. The kids and Zelda would have to be last. They needed help, and they needed it now.

When she reached his side, she touched his leg reflexively, hearing more than seeing Groose roar with effort as he dragged his massive chain ball through a row of enemies as they burst before his mighty weapon like pinatas, and her boyfriend let out a dull groan.

“Sheik?” she asked breathlessly, focusing her attention on one of the links of the chain that held him bound, trying to summon up all of the magic she had on hand. “Hun, are you awake? Snap out of it, we need you!”

“Uggghhh…” he groaned, shaking his head, his expression bleary and confused. “What…? Where…?”

For a moment, she felt concern flash through her over what had just happened to him; being strung up against a pillar and used in some insane ritual to summon a demon had to have taken some sort of toll out of him, but she pushed the worry aside. There wasn’t time to give them the rest they needed. They were all going to die.

With a grunt, she summoned the shadows and felt relief bubble up inside her as the link snapped. One down, four to go… Four per person… She needed to hurry…

“Mid…?” Sheik asked, seemingly just now realizing she was here. “Are you…? Wait, where… Where’s Link? Where’s Zelda?”

“No time,” she spat, focusing on the second link, watching it snap, freeing both of his legs. Marin was somehow managing to use the winds to keep the monsters away from her, but she knew it wouldn’t last long.

Overhead, over the din of battle, she heard the unmistakable sound of the masked boy’s laughter.

* * *

Lightning arced once more overhead, and a pillar exploded. Dust and chunks of plaster rattled like a snare drum on Link’s shield as he held it umbrella-style over his head, hastily leaping out of the way to avoid being crushed by falling chunks of stone.

From behind him, Demise's voice rang out, a harsh boom that filled the immensity of the empty entrance hall.

“Come, Hero! Why do you flee? Stand up and fight me, fight like the Hero Hylia chose you to be! Fight me, that when you fall, none shall ever again question my glory, my power!”

Climbing hastily to his feet, Link spun around and hefted his shield, careful to be sure that it stood between him and his adversary. For the moment, that shield was the only thing protecting Link from the terror of Demise’s lightning bolts, but that hadn’t stopped the madman from firing them off all around him, destroying the scenery in the hopes of making Link slip up.

At the moment, several pillars lay crushed on the floor, and one of the large, ornate Triforce-emblazoned chandeliers was hanging by a single chain, its waxy candles littering the dusty ground.

The sweat that had coated Link’s face was now sticky, muddy with dust and debris, but he didn't have time to worry about his physical appearance. From his position just before the ancient altar, Demise advanced, his fiery hair billowing, his barbarian skirt dragging on the ground. A large part of Link wanted to take the Demon King up on his offer, charge forward and meet him in a clash of blows, only not only was this demon roughly five times Link's size, but the blade he held was also so unbelievably massive that blocking or parrying it with his own blade was suicide. Like a toothpick meeting a pocket knife.

Of course, with Demise pointing his sword upwards and charging it with electricity, the obvious answer to Link’s problem had occurred to him several minutes ago- those bizarre energy beams he’d fired from his sword while fighting his Dark self, the ones he’d used against Ganondorf, the ones he was fairly certain he’d acquired somehow from Ciela, the orphaned little girl who hadn’t been Tatl. The only problem was, they weren’t working.

Out of desperation, Link took advantage of the momentary distance he’d gained between himself and Demise to point his sword skyward, just like he’d done in his earlier bouts, just like Demise did when he absorbed lightning from the sky.

Nothing happened.

Groaning, Link spun and ran off further into the entryway, desperately wracking his brains for some plan of attack. Why? Why weren’t his sword beams working?! Did it have something to do with Demise? Was he interfering somehow with Link’s abilities like some kind of disruptive magical radio frequency?

Or… did it have something to do with the fact that Ciela was currently unconscious and tied to a pillar?

That had to be it. If he could somehow get back into the other room and rescue her… But no, there was no possible way for him to do that, not with Demise hounding his every step. No, he’d simply have to rely on Groose and the others to rescue the hostages for him. Hopefully, as soon as Ciela awoke, his sword beams would return to him. If not…

Well. If not, then he was in one serious pickle.

Behind, Demise grew steadily closer, his bare feet crunching on the debris-strewn floor.

“I did not think you a coward, Hero,” he intoned darkly, his voiced interlaced with the hidden promise of retribution if Link didn’t man up.

He wanted to reply with something bold and heroic, but all he could think about at the moment was not dying. Was it cowardly that he wasn’t actively trying to slay the Demon King, or was it courageous because he still hadn’t fled yet? Did it matter? Ultimately, no, it did not.

Turning tail, Link dodged back amidst the pillars, praying for his friends to hurry.

* * *

 Linebeck had sworn to himself up and down upon his dismissal from the Hylian Navy that he would never, never, ever, ever, never, ever, ever enter another war zone no matter how crazy the world around him had become.

Funny; it looked like he wasn’t any good at keeping promises to himself, either.

“Come on, come on, come on!” he roared, half terrified, half _utterly_ _beside himself with abject horror_ as the room around him descended into maddening chaos.

Outside the ring of pillars, he could see Red, her weird blue bear, and some muscle-head he didn’t know doing their best to hold the monsters off while Sparkles, wearing a weird helmet-crown, did her best to break the chains that held them captive using… magic, he supposed. He didn’t really have time to think about it.

“Behind you!” the mayor’s kid shouted, chained up on Linebeck’s left, and Midna spun away from him just in time to see a skeletal warrior breach the ring of pillars with a large, bloody broadsword in hand. Before he could do more than cackle menacingly, Midna’s ponytail somehow morphed into a large, gelatinous arm that sucker-punched the monster so forcefully that it exploded into pieces like it was made of Legos.

“Guys! I need more time!” she bellowed over the noise, turning back to Dotour and shattering the third chain, leaving him dangling by one arm.

“We’re trying!” her boyfriend shouted from where he was crouched nearby, firing arrows from his bow into the bubbling throng. Over his head, the body of Leaf dangled lifeless from his own shackles. Seriously, what had gone on while he was asleep?

Goddesses, if he had survived the night in this place only to die now, strung up like a fool, he'd have some very strong words to say to the Goddesses…

Wait…

Time!

“Hey!” he shouted, wriggling in futility against his bonds as Midna cracked the final chain holding Dotour hostage, the slightly-older teen dropping to the floor and massaging his wrists. “Hey – Sparkles! C’mere! I have…! My pocket! Check my pocket!”

Midna, who was red-faced and flushed from the apparent exertion of summoning the power to break through chains, sent Linebeck a dubious look.

“Dude, Linebeck, I seriously don’t have time for-“

“I know!” he cut in hastily, eyeing the approaching monster mass with no little hysteria. “I know! But in my pocket is something that can help!”

Shooting the older man an exasperated look as though he were wasting her time, she hastily jammed her hand into his pants pocket, withdrawing the Phantom Hourglass. To his immense relief, the sands inside were golden once again. Somehow, they had recharged since his ‘fight’ against the dragon.

“Press the top to freeze time!” he blurted out hastily, knowing they didn’t have time for lengthy explanations. “It’ll only work once, and you’ll only have about thirty seconds at most, but-“

Understanding blossomed across her face. If there was any silver lining to the insanity that had been the last twenty-four hours, it was that explaining magic to those who had experienced it was no longer the hassle it should have been.

Her thumb pressed the top of the hourglass before he finished his sentence, and the next thing he knew, he was falling to the ground. Around the ring of pillars, Pigtails, the Runt, and the chief of police’s son fell to the ground as well. Somehow, in what little time the hourglass had bought her, Midna had managed to break all the chains.

He found her sitting on her knees beside one of the smaller inner-circle pillars that held the orphans, her shoulders slumped, her breathing harsh and ragged as if she'd just run a marathon.

“Midna!” Pigtails exclaimed, hurrying forward, but Sparkles waved her off.

“I’m fine,” she wheezed, “I just need… a second. Go help… the others.”

“What about the orphans?” Colin asked, his eyes flickering anxiously from the monsters to the unconscious children strung up in chains.

“I’ll get them down in a bit,” Midna promised. “As soon as my strength is back, but we’ll be overrun long before then.”

“Then we need to split up,” Dotour clarified. “Divide our attention between protecting Midna and the kids and taking the fight to the monsters.”

Somehow, despite how ludicrously the odds were stacked against them, Dotour sounded confident. And his confidence seemed infections; the others all stood up a little straighter when they met his gaze, even Linebeck. Even Midna seemed more energetic.

Linebeck shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts, but was momentarily distracted by the discovery that his ice rod was still stuck through the belt loop of his pants. Had the demons not taken their weapons away…? Why? Glancing up, he could see that everyone still had their weapons on them, even Pigtails’ and Dotour’s, whose weapons were far too large to slip through a belt. Pigtails was picking her hammer up from off the floor; had it fallen from her hand when they’d been attached to the pillars and just left there?

“Right,” came the voice of Sheik from where he still sat crouched against Leaf’s pillar, firing arrows into the crowd. “Half of us work on freeing the others and getting them out of here, the other half needs to try and hold off the monsters for as long as they can-”

“That’s suicidal,” Colin chuckled bitterly.

“Like we have an alternative?!”

“Hey, I’m not arguing, I’m just saying… We’re all gonna die.”

“Well, my friend; if we die, we die with honor,” Ralph imparted dramatically, drawing his blade and facing the approaching horde. They were running out of time, and he was quoting Disney movies.

“So who goes where?”

“People who can fight at range should stay here,” Linebeck cut in, drawing his rod and hefting it his arms. “That makes the most logical sense. Me, Emo, and if we can get Red back in here-“

“That leaves close-up fighters out in the fray,” Ralph interjected. “Are you sure only three of you can protect the kids?”

“Four,” Midna said from the floor. “I’m down but I’m not out.”

“Six,” Colin chimed in, and when he received a handful of odd looks, he casually drew his sword and split himself into four people. Linebeck was struck by how odd it was that he didn’t find that odd at all anymore.

“Two of us will stay here and help guard the kids,” said the Green Colin, and then the Purple one followed up with, “and the other two will try to thin their numbers.”

“Guys, we’re really wasting time here!” Sheik hollered, and the huddle of would-be heroes exchanged brief, chagrined looks.

“Alright. Let us be off!” Ralph proclaimed, brandishing his blade which immediately burst into flame.

“That’s the spirit, Sage of Fire,” Midna joked, and Ralph turned to shoot her a baffled look.

“Sage of Fire?”

“Hey, you wanna see spirit?” Dotour laughed, flashing them all a winning grin. “I’m your man.”

Without further ado, the older teen leaped into the air and literally soared upward, his cape billowing outward, carrying him forward like a paraglider, his massive greatsword held forward like he was jousting.

Seeing Kafei lead the charge seemed to instill confidence in others, and with valiant shouts like mini war cries, Aryll, two Colins, and Ralph broke from the circle of pillars and charged into the fray.

“Sages, eh?” Linebeck asked, whipping his ice rod forward and sending a chunk of ice hurling into the throng.

Midna shot him a curious look.

“Did you really not know?”

Linebeck shook his head but didn’t answer. Him? A Sage? Absurd. He’d known for a long while now that he wasn’t really worth much of anything. There was no way he could be a Sage…  
  
Then again, he’d done fairly well for himself tonight, hadn’t he?

Trying not to smile at the new, unfamiliar sense of purpose burgeoning within him, Linebeck set his teeth and focused on the battle ahead. He’d promised himself he’d see these kids out of here alive. If he really was a Sage, then that shouldn’t be a problem, right?

Maybe it was finally time to apply himself.

* * *

The sound of earth-rending explosions and shattering glass was beginning to wear on Link.

Starting forward on aching feet, Link hastily bolted across the room, eager to avoid the tumbling pillar behind him as bits of brick and plaster rained down onto the already filthy tile floor, Demise’s laughter echoing loudly off of what remained of the atrium’s walls. Seriously, the guy had done a number on the place; there was almost more hole than wall now, what with all the lightning he’d been slinging about. It was a miracle the building was still standing.

Raindrops were pouring in through the openings with torrential gusto, bleeding onto the ancient floor, but thankfully the layer of dust and debris was there to soak it up and prevent the ground from becoming too slippery. The last thing Link needed was to fall on his butt in the middle of a dramatic dodge. That wasn’t a very heroic way to die.

He was running out of pillars hide behind, though; in his attempts to buy time for his friends, he’d made a point of racing back and forth across the atrium, taking refuge behind the faded, ornate columns of stone, narrowly blocking lightning bolts with his Goddess-blessed shield and silently screaming at the gods to hurry the others up. Seriously, how long did it take to wake up a couple of orphans?! He needed Ciela’s blessing now!

Deep down he knew he was being a little impatient, but honestly, could he be blamed? Here he was, going toe-to-toe with the honest to goodness King of Demons, all on his lonesome. He’d left all of his friends on the other side of that wall, surely Groose had found a way to free them by now. After all, his only obstacle was a kid with a silly tiki mask, how hard could that be?

He couldn’t see past the giant bird carcass that blocked the doorway, and it was too loud out here to hear what was going on back there. Whatever it was, there was no way it could compare to what he was dealing with.

Underneath his gnawing impatience, however, sat a throbbing vein of worry. If it was actually taking them this long, then… maybe something had gone wrong. If only there was some way he could… call a time-out or something. Creep back into the other room and check up on them. See if they needed any help. Din, what was he thinking; if anybody needed help right then, he did.

The echo of a familiar voice seemed to reverberate in his mind at that thought; lines from a memory of a conversation he couldn’t quite place…

‘ _Help will always come to those who ask, Hero.’_

Demise hefted his blade skyward, charging another bolt of lightning, and Link hastily shook the distracting thought away, dodging frantically behind the last standing pillar. Whelp. This was it. After this, his only options were: A) try to bring the fight to Demise old-school style and risk being barbecued by his electrified blade whenever he inevitably blocked or parried one of Link’s thrusts, or B) dodge out the double doors behind him and hope that Demise followed. Doing so would give them more room to move, and there might be more trees to hide behind… but at the same time, the pouring rain would severely limit his visibility, and there was always the chance that Demise wouldn’t follow and instead turn back to deal with Link’s friends… No, he was going to have to deal with this now. Somehow. Someway. Farore, give him strength…

At that moment, a familiar tingle shivered through his left arm, and Link’s eyes went wide.

_Could it be…?_

With a burst of now-familiar light, the final pillar exploded, raining chunks of brick down on Link that he blocked by hastily thrusting his shield over his head like an umbrella.

When the dust cleared, he found Demise bearing down on him, a sardonic twist to his oily lips.

"So, Hero… You're out of convenient places to hide. Are you through with running? If all you sought to gain with your pathetic flights was a few more measly moments of life, then you've shamed the sword you bear. I confess I'm disappointed."

In response, Link merely shrugged as if conceding the point.

“Sorry about that; I just needed to buy a little time for my friends.”

Demise lifted a single eyebrow.

“You think your friends can help you now? You’re both shameful and misguided. My disappointment grows.”

“Everyone needs a little help from their friends, Demise.” Link replied sanctimoniously, drinking up these last moments of meaningless dialogue so he could catch his breath before the real battle started.

Demise scoffed. “The Hero who bested me did not require assistance. You are a disgrace.”

“I never said I needed help.” Link rebutted. “Not to deal with you. But I do need my friends; not to fight with me, but because they give me something to fight for.”

Ugh, he sounded so corny right now… It was true, sure, but it was still corny. Sheik would never let him live this speech down if he heard it. Well, whatever; the sappier it was, the more he knew it’d bother the Demon before him. And he was right; a disgusted look flashed across the Demon King’s face, and Link couldn’t help but smile.

Calmly, he lifted his sword, pointing it skyward just as Demise had done.

The beast before him examined his form with a critical eye, somehow looking both curious and dissatisfied.

“You think you can steal my lightning, boy?”

This was probably the moment where he ought to let out some pun about ‘light’ and ‘lightning’ and maybe ‘striking him down’, only Link was too tired to come up with any clever one-liners. Besides, who would be there to hear it anyway? Why waste his wittiness on a demon? Instead, he felt a wry smirk worm its way across his face as his sword began to glow.

“Something like that.”

And with a downward slash, the tide changed.

* * *

Letting out a roar of triumph, Groose Loft brought his three-ton hunk of spikey death metal crashing through a cluster of goblins, utterly obliterating them before they even knew what had hit them.

…Ok, maybe it wasn’t three tons. To be frank, with these gloves on, Groose had no idea how heavy the Din-blasted thing was. He couldn’t even feel it. Regardless, it was big, it was heavy, and when wielded by Groose and the wearer of these golden gauntlets, it transformed him into a one-man wrecking crew, tearing through monsters like they were little more than dilapidated farmhouses occupying what was soon to be a beautiful urban sprawl…

Wait. That was a bizarre metaphor. Or was it a simile? An allusion? He was never any good at English class… Who even cared? He was a boss who hit like a truck and made women weak at the knees. That was all that mattered. The Groose didn’t have time to worry about proper terms for literary devices, he had monsters to tear to pieces and ladies’ hearts to win. He could work on that other stuff later.

And it really would have to be later; from the looks of the battlefield, Groose was busy doing all the work.

Discounting those who were in the middle of the pillars trying to free the hostages, the battle had basically been split into five pieces. There was Groose who manned the left side single-handedly, tearing through so many monsters that he was fairly certain he was going to give himself asthma what with all the sulfuric monster dust exploding all around him. In the middle stood that weird Ambi kid and some purple-haired guy who Groose was pretty sure was Kafei Dotour, the mayor’s son, only he’d never really met the guy. They each had strange magic swords, and though they were taking down some of the monsters, it was clear that even together they could only do a fraction of what Groose was doing alone. Ah well, they couldn’t all be stars.

On the opposite side of the room was Hero’s little sister, Aryll, and to be fair, she was really the only one who could possibly challenge him for the coveted MVP position. She had some weird shoes that made her run fast, and some wicked cool hammer that packed a wallop nearly as strong as Groose. Still, she could only take out one or two at a time, but at least she was holding her side, unlike the other two.

Finally (at least, not including Link, who was fighting a battle all on his lonesome), that left Colin Smith, who apparently could clone himself into four separate beings, and who was guarding the pillars while Marin watched from above, utilizing the Wind Waker with terrifying accuracy, protecting basically everyone from any airborne monsters and simultaneously blowing back anyone who made it past Colin. The way her sundress and long, red hair swayed in the furious breeze she summoned, she looked like a crazed warrior queen, powerful and beautiful, striking down her foes with maniacal laughter…

A spear thudded against the ground uncomfortably close to Groose’s thigh, and he had to shake himself before he could focus on the battle before him, whipping the chain ball vertically over his head and crushing the would-be killer into the floor where he evaporated into powder.

Stupid idiot getting lost thinking about girls… You gotta focus, Groose! You may think you’re all cool doin’ all the work out here, but remember, Link is still fighting all by himself in the other room, and he’s counting on you! So’s Midna and the kids she’s trying to rescue! You can’t go getting stabbed in the thigh now! What would the others do without you?!

As though bidden by his internal monologue, Groose glanced over towards Dotour and Ambi, the two closest two him, and felt himself tense. Flaming sword in hand, he made a hasty swing at an incoming scimitar, just barely managing to knock the cleaving blow aside before it split his kneecap in two. The lizard warrior in front of him let out a fierce, hissing cry, its forked tongue flapping out of its mouth like those ribbons people tied to their oscillating fans.

Seizing the opportunity, Ambi made a haphazard swipe at the monster’s beak-like snout only to have it dodge out of the way at the last moment, he failed to react on time when the monster he was facing made its second lunge, and before he knew it he was crying out in pain as its wickedly curved blade slashed across his side, raking across his ribs, splattering hot, wet blood down the length of his pants.

Thankfully, Dotour was there, swooping out of the air like a bat, cleaving the monster in two with his giant sword before it could do Ambi in, but it was too late. The damage was already done. The kid needed help, but Dotour couldn’t protect the two of them by himself. Groose would need to hurry.

Only there wasn’t time. Awe-inspiring as he might be, mowing down five to ten guys with one swing if he was lucky and they clustered together, the masked kid was summoning reinforcements so quickly that it was tough for him to make any headway. It would be easier if Ralph simply came to him, only it didn’t look like he was moving around very well. Rather than running the enemy down like Dotour was doing (aided by his weird flying cape), Ambi was standing still, aiming some kind of hook-and-chain gun and trying to pick the monster’s off at a distance, and whenever one got too close he used his flaming sword to cut the weapon in half if he could and stab the monster through its tough hide like it was made of wet paper.

His sword was pretty cool, and maybe if he wasn’t hurt Ralph could have been a real contender on the field, but as Groose watched from the corner of his eye he could see the way Ralph’s body trembled, see the sweat that matted his hair and the paleness of his skin, see the red soaking through his clothes. He was seconds away from collapsing. If only there was some way he could get over there…

Groose pulled his gaze away momentarily in order to smash his way through some freak in a suit of armor who had tried to slip past his whirling ball of death, and when he looked back, Ralph was surrounded.

A lizard charged forward, and Ralph was able to chop off its arm with a haphazard swing before stabbing it in the gut, but when its comrades surged forward in unison, he quickly aimed his grappling hook in the opposite direction and fired. Groose watched, amazed, as it lodged itself into the thick, wooden shield of one of those fat pig men, carrying Ralph to safety and allowing him to pull off an impressive flying sword stab into the monster’s jugular that may or may not have been accidental, only as the monster exploded into dust, Ralph collapsed to the ground, retching, heedless of the monsters who pursued him.

With the sheer amount of enemies between them, Groose wasn’t sure that he could get there in time…

An idea sprang into his head.

“Ambi! Hey- Hey Ralph, over here!”

He had to bellow to be heard over the cacophony of battle, but miraculously, his voice got through. The geeky underclassman turned his head, face pale and coated in sweat, and shot Groose the most bewildered look he’d ever seen a person make.

Without bothering to explain, Groose hastily fished the pan flute Marin had given him out of his shirt where it hung on its leather thong and pressed it to his lips, letting his spike ball fall to the floor with a clatter. Taking a deep breath, he made one quick pass from the lowest note to the highest note, the only ‘song’ he knew how to play.

The pavement below him fissured dramatically, clear evidence of a fearsome summoning spell, and out of the ground like a weed sprang up the straw-covered form of Pierre the Scarecrow.

“Yeah baby!” he crowed, bouncing in place, wiggling his arms as though he were stretching. “Groose, my man, you really did it! You really played my song! And here I thought you were… you were… uh… Wait, where are we?”

“Now!” Groose roared, ignoring Pierre. Across the battle, understanding blossomed across Ralph’s face, and a moment later he was aiming his weird chained hook gun in their direction with his weak, trembling arm.

There was a click, the spiked chain exploded forward, and a second later it had embedded itself in the dead center of Pierre's back.

“Ack!” the scarecrow cried even as the chain went taught and Ralph was lifted off of the ground and sent flying through the air, away from the pursuing monsters. “I’ve been shot! I’ve been stabbed… again! Why is it every time you call me, I get impaled by some random piece of-?!”

Ralph’s body collided with Pierre at full-speed, causing the scarecrow’s body to rattle back and forth. The weakened boy tumbled to the ground, delirious, but his sword somehow managed to impale itself accidentally through Pierre’s stomach. Within seconds, the scarecrow was in flames.

Groose could only gawk, stupefied, as Pierre the Scarecrow went up in a blaze of glory. It took him a second to realize that Ralph was lying semi-conscious at his base and he hastily bent down to pull the injured boy away, worried that while he was distracted the monsters around him would be able to take advantage and do both him and Ralph in.

He needn’t have worried; even the monsters around them couldn’t help but stop and stare in amazement as Pierre was burned alive, his fearful cries piercing the heavens.

“OUCH!” the garden fixture screamed, his arms flailing comically, his voice several octaves too high. “Hot! Hot hot hot! I mean I don’t actually have any nerves, but- still! Somebody! Help! Put me out!”

Before Groose could even consider where he was going to find a bucket of water to save his friend, a sudden blast of air powered over them, just about knocking Groose off his feet. Pierre’s post nearly snapped in two under the force of the gale, his wide-brimmed hat (or what was left of it) flipping off into the distance, but the flames were instantly extinguished. A moment later the wind stopped.

“Hi, Pierre!” a high, melodious voice called from somewhere behind them. “You’re welcome!”

For his part, Pierre didn’t seem very grateful. Rather than return Marin’s greeting he merely gazed down at his charred, still-smoldering body and whimpered, “My body… My beautiful body…”

Groose offered Pierre a weak grin.

“Uh… Sorry ‘bout that. I’ll, uh… I’ll make it up to you. Somehow.”

And with that, he hoisted Ralph’s body up onto his shoulder, pulled the boy’s sword out of Pierre’s chest, snatched up his chain ball, and headed off towards the ring of pillars where he could leave him to be looked after with the others.

From behind, he heard the infuriated scarecrow belt out, “Groose! Groose, get back here! _Groose, you owe me a new hat_!”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a figure swiftly approaching from above. Cursing, and regretting that one of his arms was occupied, Groose readied himself to try and fight off the approaching monster with one arm when he recognized the form of Kafei Dotour.

“Hey!” he panted, looking a whole lot worse than Groose did, his body covered in nicks and cuts and his clothes stained with blood. “Groose, right? Is Ralph ok?”

From over his shoulder, the younger boy let out a weak moan.

“Yeah, I take that as a no…”

“I was just takin’ him back to the others real quick. He really shouldn’t be out here with that wound on his side-“

“Let me take him,” Kafei cut in, taking a moment to lean heavily on his massive pink sword.

Groose blinked in surprise.

“Uh… I mean I got him already-“

“Yeah, but…” Kafei let out an embarrassed laugh. “You’re worth five of us out here at the moment, I don’t think we can afford to lose you. We’d be overrun before we could blink. Just- Let me take Ralph, and you go hold the front line with Aryll. I’ll be right back to back you up, I swear.”

Well, he had a point. Even now as they wasted time talking, Groose could see the bulk of the monsters swarming in on the ring of pillars. If he hurried, he could maybe take most of them down before they broke past Colin and Moosh…

“Cool. Take him,” Groose answered hastily, all but shoving the injured boy into Kafei’s awaiting arms, nearly knocking them both down onto the floor. “Here’s his sword.”

“Thanks, Groose. You’re the best.”

Groose smirked. “Heh. Don’t I know it?”

“I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Groose, wait!” Marin called from overhead.

Nodding absently to Kafei as he rushed off with the injured Ralph, Groose jogged quickly towards the ring of pillars, eyes on the growing crowd of monsters, and called out “You all right there?”

“Doin’ good!” she chirped in response, blasting aside a spear that was aiming for Groose’s back. “Linebeck wants to talk to you! Something about building a shelter.”

Groose blinked.

“Build a what now?”

A shelter? Sure, it’d be nice to have, but… right here? Right now? And out of what? There wasn’t exactly a pile of wood lying around.

Linebeck forced his way through the huddled cluster of children and the ring of pillars and approached Groose, looking stormy.

“You the football brat?”

“Whoa,” Groose cut in, hands held up as though to stop the older man. “It’s rugby, you old geezer. Don’t go insulting my noble profession.”

“Whatever. Can you do what Red says? Can you use these pillars to build us a barricade to protect the kids?”

Oh… That’s what she meant. Groose cast a contemplative eye over his surroundings, examining the pillars and the raised dais upon which they were standing.

Finally, he grunted in affirmation. “Twelve pillars. Each one, I dunno, about ten feet high? Maybe twelve? Three feet in diameter? Yeah, that should probably work fine. I can stack ‘em in two circles, one atop the other, get you a safe space just shy of twenty feet long. I mean there’ll be gaps in the walls that the monsters can stab through, so you’ll want to avoid the edges, but they should be just tall enough that the bad guys will have a hard time climbing over them. Though that means you probably wouldn’t be able to get out too easy either. We’d lose Marin’s air support, too-“

“That’s ok!” Marin took the liberty of adding from above. “I can still knock down flying guys if I’m on the floor. Plus… my butt’s getting a little sore.”

“Cool. So I’ll build you a ring. Will that work, or do you have something else in mind?”

Linebeck looked like he’d stopped understanding the moment Groose opened his mouth. Shaking his head like a spastic bird, he blurted out, “Just… do it! Whatever you want, just make it fast!”

“Alright!” Groose crowed, punching his palm triumphantly. “Just get those kids away from the edges, yeah? It’d be pretty bad if I accidentally dropped a pillar and crushed one of ‘em, y’know?”

As Linebeck scurried away, she thought she saw his eye twitching.

While Groose called out to the two remaining Colins to watch his back while he got to work, Linebeck was quickly corralling the newly-freed orphans into the center of the ring, around an old, weathered pedestal that had likely, at one time, held the Master Sword. Ralph was also there, but propped-up against the slightly angled chunk of stone that had once held Zelda.

She had been freed from her shackles, yet sat on the floor beside Ralph, unmoving. The only person who remained chained was the body of an older looking red-haired boy with a bloody hole in his abdomen. Offhandedly, he wondered who he was and why nobody wanted to cut him down.

The battle actually hadn’t altered much since Groose had retreated to the pillars. Apparently, two Colins, Kafei, Midna and Moosh weren’t much better than one Groose in terms of their ability to hold the line. Every so often one of the Colins fell and came exploding back out of Green Colin’s chest, forcing the others to pick up the slack until he could make it back to the battle. Marin did her best to send helpful bursts of wind in their direction, but she sort of had her hands full trying to keep her two Colins safe from the monsters who managed to break through while simultaneously protecting Groose while he worked.

At least Groose worked fast. Within seconds of setting out to build the barricade, he’d already ripped up half of the outer ring of pillars with about as much effort as a man pulling weeds from his garden, tilting the pillars sideways and laying them out in a large circle, their ends touching. Green Colin kept to his side, fighting off whoever came near, while Purple remained closer to Marin on the opposite end of the circle, impaling anyone she brought down.

It was a good plan, at first. Right up until a surge at the battlefront caused both Red and Blue Colins to explode into dust and sent Kafei flying back into the wall.

The line broke, and monsters began pouring down on top of them.

Red and Blue exploded out of Green, racing back to the line while Midna headed to help Kafei. Marin sent her winds to impede the approaching horde, and with Moosh and Aryll there to help they quickly began regaining control over their line, but not before the damage was already done. A veritable swath of monsters was bearing down upon them, and the barricade wasn’t fully constructed yet.

“Watch out!” Marin cried aloud, more for Groose and Linebeck's sake than for the Colins, who had already moved to confront them. Groose turned and ducked as a ghost sailed overhead, lantern swinging low, nearly catching him in the temple. A blast of air tore the object from its ethereal hand, extinguishing the flame and sending the ghost back into the beyond.

A lizard was close behind, a mace-like attachment on the end of its tail, and it leaped at Groose, tail whipping forward. Groose caught it in his enhanced gloves, hastily spinning on the spot, throwing the lizard forward where it smashed into one of the remaining pillars. It burst into dust, but not before fracturing the pillar's foundation, causing it to wobble precariously.

“Look out!” Linebeck hollered, too far away to do anything as he grappled with a skeleton whose limbs he was dismantling with his whip. The hostages in the middle of the ring let out a terrified scream as the pillar tilted inward, but a moment later Groose had seized it by its base, ripping it out of the floor and turning to face the remaining monsters.

“Duck!” he yelled to the Colins, and without further ado, hefted the pillar like a baseball bat and swung it into the mass of snarling monsters.

Green Colin managed to make it out of the way. Purple did not, and he took the full impact of the pillar straight to the face. In one swing, he and the gaggle of monsters vanished, and the pillar shattered into several large chunks.

“Uh oh,” Groose stammered, looking horrorstruck, but a moment later Purple rematerialized out of Green’s body, good as new.

“He’s fine,” Green Colin replied, looking nonplussed, though Purple shot Groose a rather dirty look before hurrying on to deal with the few who remained.

Groose nodded appreciatively.  “Whoa. That’s pretty neat-“

“Will you stop talking and get back to work?!” Linebeck interjected once more, his face nearly as red as his nose.

Groose snorted in an annoyed manner but ultimately did what Linebeck said. Tearing down the last two pillars, he laid them out beside the rest, pushing over the bits of broken pillar from the one he'd weaponized earlier. Within moments, the outer ring had been formed.

For the inner pillars, Groose pulled them out, same as always, before laying them atop the outer ring, placing the ends as securely as he could towards the middle of the other pillars, so that they overlapped rather than laying directly atop one another. Before long, the only pillar left standing was the one Marin was perched on top of.

“Groose!” she called out as the larger boy ambled in her direction, scanning the floor for where he’d dropped his chain ball and not looking particularly concerned about moving the final pillar just yet.

“What?”

“Catch!”

And without further warning, the crazed ginger flung herself off the top of the pillar. A look of fleeting terror flashed across his face, but he barely managed to get his arms up in time before she crashed into him, knocking them both to the ground with twin grunts.

“Ugh,” he groaned from underneath her, securing her position atop him with one hand while he rubbed his head with the other. “What is wrong with you?! If you wanted to fly, you shoulda called your bear.”

“Heh, nice catch,” she giggled, leaning forward to give him a grateful peck on the cheek before leaping to her feet. “Now hurry up! Finish your silly fort and then come join me! I’m gonna go woman the perimeter!”

Groose’s face had gone as red as his hair, but a dopey sort of smile dominated his expression as he hastily clambered up after her.

“Oh, uh- right! Sure thing! Just a sec!”

She shot him one last grin before turning to face the battlefield, raising her baton like a rapier and hurried off into the fray, letting out the most heroic battle cry she could think of.

“For Narnia!”


	34. Wrath

Standing on one of the lower pillars of the barricade, Sheik let another arrow fly out into the chaotic battle before him as he took stock of the situation.

This was bad. Very bad. Though they were somehow, impossibly, holding their own for now, it was only a matter of time before Majora’s monsters broke through their fragile defenses and routed them.

Groose had returned to the battlefield where he and Aryll were doing their utmost to pick up everyone else's slack. Kafei, Midna, Marin's bear, and the two Colins were certainly helping, but compared to the destructive might of Groose and Aryll (especially Groose), they were more stopgaps than anything else.

Within the barricade, he, Marin, and Linebeck tried their best to help their friends from afar, fighting with wind, ice, and arrows, but there was only so much that could be done. Majora’s army seemed endless, and their strength seemed to be waning at a much faster rate than its supply of monsters.

Behind him, the orphans were huddled together in a group next to the stone that had previously held Zelda's inert body, which was now lying prostrate on the ground beside the injured Ralph.

She wasn’t dead. He was the Sage of Shadow; he would know better than anyone else. She wasn’t exactly alive though either; her soul wasn’t in her body, but he could feel it nearby. Whatever that demon that Link was fighting out in the other room, Zelda’s soul seemed to have been absorbed by it. He hadn’t checked her body to see if she had a pulse, so he couldn’t say how she was faring physically, but despite all appearances, she wasn’t dead. She wasn’t. He hadn’t failed her yet.

“There has to be a way to put a stop to this,” he grunted, sending an arrow through the skull of a skeletal warrior who had been creeping up on Midna, sending bone fragments flying.

“If you have a plan, I’d love to hear it,” Linebeck retorted sourly, swinging his rod like a baseball bat and sending a heavy chunk of ice flying into the crowd. “At this rate, we’ll be overrun by sheer numbers in a matter of minutes.”

“Wait, that’s it!” a voice interrupted from outside the barricade, and Sheik and Linebeck both turned to find the sweat-soaked face of Colin Smith, the green one, trotting closer to them while his red variant watched his back.

“What’s it?”

"Earlier, me and Aryll were in this trial and – whatever, the point is, there was an army of monsters like this there too, and to stop it, we had to stop the main monster!"

“So… what you’re saying it,” Linebeck began, clearly not liking where this was going, but Sheik cut him off.

“We have to stop Majora.”

Of course. It made perfect sense in retrospect, only, they hadn’t considered it an option at first because getting to him necessitated getting through the army of monsters first. Still… they were sort of out of options. Maybe if only a few of them focused on Majora, and the rest on the monsters…

“We’ll watch your back,” Colin supplied as if reading his thoughts. “Linebeck and us two will stay to watch Ralph and the kids; you gather up the other two of us and some of the others, and get that mask.”

Linebeck made a noise in his mouth as though to argue that they were barely holding their position as it was, but Sheik didn’t give him the chance to speak. The faster they got this taken care of, the faster they could help Link. The faster they could save Zelda.

Leaping from off the newly-crafted makeshift barricade, ninja-shoes kicking up swirls of dust on the battle-scarred floor, Sheik straightened, secured his grip on the bow in his hands, and set off towards the battle before him at a jog.

Sheik had no idea how the line was still holding. Groose’s barricade was definitely something, but it didn't exactly improve their firepower. They still should have been overwhelmed already. Had the number of monsters actually decreased? That could only be true if the Mask was getting tired itself, yet Sheik could feel the well of dark energy that brewed within it, thrumming like the bass speaker at a rave. It hadn’t let up in the slightest. So then why…?

There was no time for why. Maybe the Mask was toying with them. Maybe his friends were doing better than he was giving them credit for. It didn’t matter. This battle had only one possible outcome if things stayed the way they were, and that was with them all dead. It was time to change their plan of attack. Time to end this. Finally.

As he reached the line, Midna must have noticed movement from the corner of her eye because she turned to face her unexpected reinforcements and blanched, looking torn between relief and horror.

“Sheik?!” she exclaimed, flabbergasted, and it took him a moment to realize that the playfully coy smirk he was sending her was hidden behind his cowl. Dag.

“There’s been a change of plan,” he shouted instead, loud enough that it drew Kafei and the other Colins’ attention. He’d have to hope that someone could pass the info on to Groose; with him slinging that ball around he was too dangerous to get close to.

Before he could expound on what that was exactly, the masked boy above them let out a burst of familiar laughter. Silhouetted against the stormy stained-glass window behind him, he truly looked the part of a demon, the eyes of the mask glowing a phosphorescent yellow.

“I was wondering how long it’d take you idiots to catch on,” he taunted, the childish undercurrents still thick behind his distorted voice.

“Listen up!” Sheik shouted, loud enough for all his friends to hear over the sound of the battle raging around them. “This fight won’t ever end unless we can remove the mask from that kid’s face! Forget the monsters, forget the battle- get the mask!”

Suiting his own words, he quickly drew an arrow out of the quiver on his back, conscious of how low he was running on them after a day full of crazy monster battles, and took aim at the masked boy above him.

For his part, the boy let out a low chuckle, slowly retreating higher in the air, his arms held aloft as though inviting the attack.

“Well now, this game ought to be interesting…”

And with that, he loosed his arrow.

It shot forward, twirling swiftly through the dust-filled air, but moments before it was to collide with the mask, it shattered in midair as though it had struck an invisible concrete wall. Lines of purple energy undulated across the empty space between them, and the boy tipped his head back and laughed.

 “Go!” Sheik shouted, and his friends exploded into action.

Marin struck first, her baton slicing through the air, sending a furious gale at the floating boy bent on bearing him back to the ground, but a moment later he countered with a wave of pure, dark force, blasting the air backward in all directions. His cackling laughter continued.

A moment later, Kafei was in the air, his magical cape opening wide behind him like the wings of a glider, carrying him higher, higher. For a half-second, Sheik thought he was going to try his giant sword again, but instead he reached out as though to grab the mask and yank it off.

Inches from the mask, Kafei’s body froze in place before hurtling back to the ground as though thrown by a psychic blast. He hit the ground with a grunt, his sword clattering away, but before anyone could react, Groose’s chain was whipping upward.

Somehow, Groose had gotten the memo and had arrived just in time to lend a hand. Rather than hurl his bulky, cumbersome spiked ball at the boy, which would have either resulted in the boy being brutally injured or else (the more likely scenario) would have given the boy a terrifying weapon to shoot back at them like he'd done with Kafei's body, Groose had instead had the presence of mind to throw the opposite end of his chain like a whip, clearly trying to wrap it around the boy and pull him to the ground.

The chain froze in place just as Kafei had, the masked boy’s laughter only growing more intense, and he waved his hand as though to throw the chain back at him when suddenly something launched itself from the ground behind him – Marin’s weird, blue bear.

The masked boy twisted in place, only instead of kicking the beast out of the air, the masked boy lashed out with Groose’s paralyzed chain, binding it tightly across the animal’s chest before swinging him around and throwing him back down. The chain caught Red and Blue Colin in the chest, slicing them in half, and the bear slammed directly into Groose. The rugby star went down. Sheik winced; Red and Blue would both be back, virtually unharmed, but Groose… that blow might have put him out of commission.

Before he could reorient himself, something latched onto his leg, and the masked boy turned, somehow looking startled and enraged for all that his face wasn’t actually visible.

It was Midna, her limbs trembling, but she clung onto his let using that strangely gelatinous hand that extended out of her hair, struggling to pull the boy down out of the air. The masked boy stared for a moment, then chuckled. Slowly, as though taunting her, he started gliding backward, dragging Midna along with him.

Midna dug her heels in, straining for all she was worth, but she might as well have been the kite trying to direct the person flying it. Slowly, the boy began flying upwards, by small increments. Midna’s body went higher and higher until her heels left the floor. In another second she’d be dangling from her third arm, but she still didn’t let go.

A moment later, Linebeck was there, apparently getting the memo and abandoning the pillar fort. The four Colins and Aryll seemed to be guarding it alone for now, somehow, with aid from Marin, but this wasn’t going to last long. Sheik took a moment to snipe a lizard in the back who was about to crest the top of the barricade. They needed to hurry!

“S-Sparkles!” Linebeck coughed, looking panicked. “Let go, it’s-!”

“Shut up, old man!” she cut him off with a snarl. “Put your back into it!”

The masked boy was staring down at them, but his attention seemed to be focused primarily on Midna. Something dark fell across the trio, like a shadow. The rest of the room had been suddenly forgotten.

“That’s some interesting headgear you have there,” the boy intoned, sounding at once condescending and… enraged?

“Look who’s talking,” Midna spat back, strained. She couldn’t keep this up. Neither of them could. In another moment, if they didn’t let go, the masked boy was going to whip them across the room like he’d done to the bear.

Thankfully, Sheik didn’t need another moment.

For the entirety of the battle, he’d been holding back, only releasing that first shot. Just as he had expected, the mask had been able to stop it with magic without even seeming to move. He had assumed this would happen, but he wanted to demonstrate this to the others without saying it aloud while also allowing the masked boy to get an idea of what Sheik could do.

The demon Majora was a powerhouse of magical energy. The events of their battle just now had clearly shown that, but it was what it’d been doing all day that had really showcased this to the world. Sheik thanked Zelda for this understanding; after they’d met up, after putting an end to that weird puppet monster and saving Navi, she’d explained to him what Majora had been doing. Utilizing its magic, it had spent the better part of the last twenty-four hours manipulating the museum in order to create the false-realities that Sheik and his friends had been trapped in. They hadn’t known why then, but the ‘why’ wasn’t what mattered now. Majora could, in Zelda’s words, manipulate time and space to such a degree that it could create several separate and distinct alternate dimensions simultaneously. And it had sustained them for a whole day without showing signs of tiring.

Even with her limited memories and magical knowledge, Zelda had been floored. To do what Majora was doing was inconceivable. If the mask had that much raw power on its hands, then fighting it was going to be equally impossible. There was just no way they could ever win. At least… not if they played fair.

After Sheik fired his first arrow, he hung back and let his friends take on the fight. The masked boy had written him off as a simple archer, nothing to be feared, and Sheik was content to stay behind watching. Watching for an opening. Watching to see what the masked boy would do.

As suspected, he was toying with them. All of this, everything the boy had done, had been a game to him. He wasn’t taking this seriously. He could destroy them all at once, but he wasn't. He could have erected some sort of force field around him and remained completely safe, but he didn't. Instead, he let Sheik's friends get close, let them almost touch him, let them wrap a hand around his leg, all of it so he could taunt them as they failed. He was playing with them, just as he’d been doing when he’d summoned his endless army. He was an arrogant boy playing with insects. This was all a game.

With his attention focused on Midna and Linebeck, Sheik summoned the shadows, praying silently to all three goddesses that if Majora sensed the magic, he’d write it off as non-threatening. Miraculously, impossibly, the masked boy didn’t turn.

The darkness swallowed him, and a moment later Sheik was high up in the air. His bow held high, he drew another arrow, fitting it against the string, pulling the fletching back to his cheek. He’d only have one shot at this. If he missed, they were doomed.

He said one last prayer, this one to Zelda’s soul, begging for her strength.

Light exploded on the tip of his arrow.

He fired.

* * *

Pierre the Scarecrow stared at his blackened body, feeling despair threaten to overwhelm him yet again.

His body… His beautiful, sexy, perfectly-crafted body…

He hadn’t expected the call to come so early. He hadn’t expected to be summoned inside the ruin of an old building in the midst of a battle. And he certainly hadn’t expected to be impaled through the chest by a flaming sword or to go up like a bonfire either.

Marin had put him out, but not before he’d lost his hat. His entire body was crispy and black, his wooden frame weak and crumbly, his face so soot-covered that he doubted anyone could see his sweet eyebrows anymore. He was grateful that he didn’t actually have any nerves, else he’d probably be in a whole lot of pain. That was bad, he understood; it was supposed to be really unpleasant.

Wait… He couldn’t feel because he had no real skin, but… why could he see? His eyes were drawn onto his face! And why could he hear?! He didn’t have any ears, not even fake ones! Why had he never questioned any of this before?! Who was he?! Where had he come from?! What was the purpose of his existence?!

This was all Groose's fault! First, he stabs him with his hook, then gets him impaled and set on fire, and now he had him suffering an existential crisis! Sweet samba, he shoulda known better than to teach that psycho his magical song! Why couldn’t he have made a pact with that cute girl instead?!

Across the room, unnoticed by the emotionally distraught scarecrow, past the circle of pillars, over in the corner by the single tall, stained glass window, a single arrow, shining with holy light, struck the back of a demonic mask.

An explosion rocked the building.

Pierre still didn't notice, focused as he was on trying to wiggle his charred limbs to convince himself that he could still pull off a convincing tango.

* * *

When Sheik’s arrow made contact, it detonated with a concussive blast, knocking Marin off her feet, and the world was lost in a brilliant flash of light.

For a wild moment, she was convinced that Sheik had gone mad and shot the boy in the back of the head. Had he seriously just killed a little kid?!

Hastily blinking away the spots that danced before her eyes, Marin pushed herself back to her feet with no little effort, regretting for the umpteenth time that day the sundress she’d decided to wear. A flicker of movement from above caught her eye. Somebody was falling.

She barely had time to register what was happening before Kafei was there, his cape expanding to catch the air like the wings of an angel. He snatched the body out of midair and swooped back to the ground, the boy’s inert form clutched awkwardly to his torso. She moved toward him without seeming to realize what she was doing. The body in Kafei’s arms, it was…

It was the masked boy. Only he wasn’t wearing his mask.

Somewhere in the back of her head, Marin realized that this was the first time she was actually seeing his face. He was sallow-skinned, with lanky brown nondescript hair and a pointed chin. His eyes were closed, though he was still breathing, but from the dark shadows under his eyes and his cracked lips, she could tell he wasn't doing very well. He looked emaciated, like those kids on those starving children commercials. Had the orphanage done this to him, or was it some side-effect of wearing that mask for so long?

His too-thin face, coupled with his state of dress (an old black skull-print T-shirt, a pair of too short brown shorts and some ratty old sneakers) and his age (the boy can’t have been older than ten at the most) had Marin reevaluating the events of the past day. This was the boy who had caused them so much grief? Who had summoned a seemingly unending army of monsters? Who had tried so hard to kill them? _This_ was their great enemy?

The others had slowly started gathering around her and Kafei, but over the older boy's shoulder, Marin saw the shadows start to ripple, and from out of their depths strode Sheik, his face still hidden behind his cowl. He didn’t even spare them a glance, however; his blood-red gaze was focused on something over their heads. Something prickled on the back of Marin’s neck, and she turned to look.

It was the mask. Majora’s Mask. Sheik’s arrow must have torn it off the little boy’s face from behind. Only… wasn’t removing the mask supposed to put a stop to the dark magic? The boy was unconscious, the army of monsters had stopped spawning, the room had finally grown silent for the first time since she and Groose had busted in to rescue their friends. Everything seemed finally at peace.

So how was it that the mask was still floating in the air?

As though in response to Marin’s unvoiced question, the mask twisted violently in place, righting itself and turning around to face the cluster of battle-weary teens below it. It loomed above like a kite without a string, its painted eyes wide and staring. Somehow, bodiless, it was even more terrifying than before.

_‘Well. What do you know? You actually managed to do it.’_

Marin nearly leaped out of her skin. It was a voice, only it wasn’t. It echoed out from inside her skull, sourceless and cold and obviously inhuman. It was as if the mask was thinking for her, putting thoughts into her head to facilitate speech. And its voice, if you could call it a voice… it was rough and guttural, but of a much higher pitch than she’d have expected from a demon. The unnatural echoing was gone, as was the petulant tone, but now for some odd reason, Marin was convinced she was speaking to a woman. A woman demon. Who was actually a mask.  Gods, this was confusing.

 _‘I’ll be honest, I didn’t think you had it in you,’_ the mask continued, holding the huddled group’s attention like a professional performer on center stage. _‘But I figured it was worth the risk to let you try. And I’m ever so grateful that you managed to rid me of my prepubescent handicap. He carried around a lot of emotional trauma for a child his age, which provided me with a rich supply of misery to draw upon, but in the end, he wasn't strong enough to seek the revenge he claimed to have wanted. Can you believe he's the one that’s been holding me back all this time?’_

“What are you talking about?”

Hearing Midna’s voice, so loud after Majora’s thoughts, had Marin jumping again in fright. Din, she needed to get ahold of herself! Where was the composure she was so proud of before?!

 _‘Surely you knew?’_ There was a familiar taunting quality to the mask’s unheard voice now. _'I explained this earlier. When that brat put me on, we formed a pact. A symbiosis of sorts. I attached myself to his soul and began consuming his emotions, particularly the negative ones, in order to make myself strong again, and in return, he was able to draw upon and use my power. The fuel for my power is misery, both his own and what we could cause for others, and he had a lot it. The longer we were together, the stronger I became, and the more I was able to impress my will upon his own until finally, I became the dominant organism. But even in the end, he was able to influence my actions to some degree. We were, for a time, as one. For all of his grand posturing, he couldn’t bear the thought of me hurting his little orphan friends. Or those ‘brave teenagers’ who had come to save them._

_‘That is the only reason you now live. To resurrect my King, I was only required to pit you all in dangerous situations that would necessitate acts of heroism to awaken the fairies who slept in the children’s hearts. That you found weapons there to protect you was because of that foolish boy. They were already in the museum, true, but he nudged me into putting them in your trials as ‘part of the game’. That I’ve taunted and toyed with you for this long is at his discretion as well. He subconsciously influenced my actions without my even realizing. Had you not ripped that leech from the back of my face just now, it’s likely I’d have never realized.’_

Nobody responded. There was a truth to Majora’s words, though, that she saw reflected in everyone’s eyes.

They should all be dead. They all knew it, no one was denying it. No one was even surprised by that fact. That they had all lived through their trials because of some grand master plan was news to Marin, though the fact that no one else reacted to it seemed to indicate that Marin and Groose had been late to the party in more ways than one. But the other news, that the reason Majora had been holding back during that entire, dramatic, drawn-out and exceedingly difficult battle was because of the orphan boy Majora had been slowly draining the life out of over the course of the last day was new, and Marin could tell that her friends were feeling that same sticky feeling of guilt that she was. She’d been blaming all her troubles thus far on the Masked Boy without realizing that he was as much a prisoner as they were.

The mask laughed inside their heads.

_‘So I thank you for liberating me from my fleshy encumbrance. And I thank you also for standing still long enough for me to gather my strength. You’ve all been perfect pawns, but now I think it’s time I finally complete your misery and get back to my Master. Remember, this will be our last time together- when I break you, make sure your screams are as loud as you can manage. I want to savor this.’_

All at once, the mask undulated, rippling like a mirage. A second later, it bulged outwards, growing at least three or four times its size, the little spikes on the outside edges of the mask wriggling like the many legs of a centipede. Finally, and most disgusting of all, dozens of long, noodle-y tentacles sprouted out of the back of the mask, dangling several feet below it like a wig of super gross hair.

With a burst of high, ululating laughter, the mask began spinning like a hack saw, its tentacles lashing about wildly as it swooped low like a Frisbee and began soaring straight at them.

“Marin, look out!”

She had no idea who had called out. Her mouth had gone dry at the suddenness of it all, and her limbs felt like putty. Her brain was having a hard time processing the swift jump from dramatic monologue to sudden, vicious attack. Almost without thinking she raised the Wind Waker and stabbed it forcefully at the floor in front of her.

A ferocious gale sprang up, bouncing off of the ground, catching the mask from underneath moments before it reached them and forcing it higher into the air, missing their heads by mere inches. It swerved around the empty room, its unnerving laughter echoing off the stone walls as it prepared for a second pass.

“Everyone get ready, we’ve got to take that thing down!” Sheik yelled out, taking charge once again and sounding way more confident than Marin felt at that moment.

“It’s too high in the air!” Aryll countered, frustrated. “We’ll need to lower it back down, or else-!”

“Just let those of us with ranged attacks deal with it,” Groose cut in, twirling the end of his chain in his fist. “Me, Marin, Sheik… The rest of you should get outta here.”

“I’m not leaving you!” Midna snarled. “Kafei, you should take that boy over to the others-“

“If it’s an aerial battle then you’re gonna need me!”

“ _Everyone down!_ ”

The mask made a second pass, tentacles lashing out like whips. Once again, Marin barely managed to blow it off-course, but both Groose’s chain and Sheik’s arrows missed their targets, and the mask sailed off to prepare for the next attack.

Marin lost her footing trying to dodge, and by the time she got back to her feet, the boy’s body had somehow been transferred into Linebeck’s hands. He shot Marin a brief, miserable look; if she hadn’t known any better, she’d say he wanted to stay and help. How completely out of character. A moment later he was rushing off towards the pillars. That left Marin, Groose, Sheik and Midna, Aryll, Kafei, Moosh, and the three Colins. For a wild moment, she was struck by how much that last bit sounded like a fairy tale- _Moosh and the Three Colins._

A second later, the mask was making another pass.

The three Colins tried to form a line with their shields and were almost immediately destroyed, the tentacles from the mask tearing through them like paper-mâché. Stunned, forgetting for a second that the clones could just endlessly reproduce from the original Colin who was safe back with the orphans, she tried to raise the baton to push the mask away when Moosh appeared, his teeth glistening in the dim light, to chomp down on a mouthful of tentacles.

The mask’s warpath was momentarily stymied as the large bear struggled with his prey, but a moment later, with the sound of several audibly wet pops, the tentacles in its mouth tore free and the mask sailed away, teetering drunkenly. The bits left in Moosh’s mouth wriggled like worms for a moment before vanishing into black dust.

“We need a plan of attack!” someone called out from somewhere nearby.

“It’s too fast! Maybe if we can get Moosh to distract it again-!”

Without warning, the mask froze in place high above the ground, facing the panicked teens on the floor. Its tentacles writhed in serpentine lines all around its face like the rays of a demented sun. The mask’s face began to glow.

All at once a powerful beam of light lanced down at them accompanied by a shrill keen. The moment the light touched the ground, the floor exploded in gouts of flame and tile shrapnel. The teens cried out as the heat seared their skin even from a distance, turning tail and fleeing as the magical laser drew its path along the ground, leaving a trail of fire in its wake as surely as if drawn by a pen.

Marin stumbled back, unsure how to move or where to go. This was too much! She couldn’t deflect a laser with the wind! And she could blow this freak around as much as she wanted, but she didn’t have any way of actually hurting it unless she somehow managed to smash it against the wall. The laser was drawing closer and her heart was in her throat.

Someone’s arm wrapped around her midriff, jerking her back, and a moment later she was being carried like a suitcase across the uneven battleground.

“G-Groose?!” she spluttered, indignant. “Let me go!”

“No talking! More running!” he called back, looking terrified.

Behind them, the laser cut off with a pained wail.

Groose stumbled to a halt and turned around, dropping Marin back on her feet a little more harshly than he probably intended to.

They missed what had happened, but something must have stopped the mask. From behind, through the smoke, they could see what looked like Kafei gliding swiftly away, his giant sword held awkwardly in one hand.

The mask twisted, tentacles flying out again as if to fire another laser to blast Kafei out of the sky when another explosion of light erupted on its back.

Sheik was down below, his bow raised, looking murderous. Without pausing to speak, he hastily began nocking another arrow.

The mask didn’t give him a chance. Deciding to revert back to demon Frisbee mode, tentacles blurring like the teeth of a saw blade, it swooped low, ready to slice Sheik in two.

From off to the side, Moosh appeared in all his fuzzy blue glory, slamming down atop the demon mask as only he could. The mask let out a howl of rage, beating at the bear, its face glowing, preparing another fire attack, but the bear merely roared back in bestial defiance. Trapped beneath its weight, the mask couldn’t move.

This was their chance! If they could find some way to shatter the mask before it escaped Moosh’s clutches…! But how? Kafei’s sword? Could Sheik just stand there and shoot it in the face over and over until it died?

Reading her mind, Groose put a hand on her shoulder to get her attention and smirked.

“You just get that bear of yours out of the way at the last second, alright?”

Groose hefted his massive spiked ball in his hand and gave it a few vertical practice twirls to gain some speed. When he was ready, Marin turned and shouted to Moosh to get his attention. He understood- of course he did, Moosh was a genius, even for a bear- and jerked away from the mask right as Groose’s giant steel wrecking ball smashed on top of it with all of the force the rugby star could muster.

The floor tiles beneath it shattered from the force of the impact.

Silence reigned, and for a wild, naive moment Marin actually thought they had won.

Then the mask convulsed, letting out a high-pitched shriek of rage and pain. Black smoke engulfed it as it thrashed on the floor beneath Groose’s chain ball, its tentacles flailing like the limbs of a dying spider, clawing at the air as though searching for freedom. With a boom that shook the floor and sent dust raining down from the ceiling, a dark sort of energy exploded outward from the mask, sending Groose’s weapon tumbling away.

Like an ominous specter, the mask rose up from the ground, its entire frame trembling. Its tentacles slurped their way back into the mask like wet spaghetti noodles, but a moment later, something thick and long exploded out of the base of the mask, reaching all the way down to the floor.

For a half-second, Marin thought it was just a longer tentacle, but then it was joined by a second, and then two more that sprouted out from the sides. They almost looked like… limbs. The last addition was a tiny little eye that extended out of the top of the mask like an antenna.

Majora’s Mask had a body.

Then, as if to undercut the dramatic tension of the situation, the mask began quickly leaning from side to side like it was performing stretches before a track meet. From out of a mouth that she wasn’t even sure it had, it let out a surprisingly high-pitched yelping noise, like a howler monkey. Then, it began to dance.

Marin gaped. Here they were, facing off with perhaps the evilest being who had ever lived, one who had just managed to spontaneously grow its own body, and the first thing it did with its new limbs… was dance?

It was almost beautiful… in a creepy Hallmark movie sort of way.

It was gone in a flash.

Blinking rapidly, Marin jerked her eyes around, feeling her heart climb its way back into her esophagus. Oh Goddesses, where… where did it go?! How had it just vanished like…?!

There!

From around their makeshift barricade, Majora came sprinting towards them, moving almost as fast as Aryll had been earlier with her magic boots. It was still hooting like a madwoman as it moved, its form basically a blur, and before she had time to process what was happening it blew past her and kicked Groose straight in the gut.

Her friend went flying back with a grunt, stopping short when his arm was caught by the chain still held in his grip, and he hit the floor with a crash, curling into the fetal position and coughing violently. Marin moved to help, but Majora was faster. Pirouetting across the floor like a ballerina, it dodged an arrow from Sheik, kneed Moosh so hard in the jaw that he flew backward, and stabbed its hand like a knife through the chest of one of the only-now returning Colins.

The look on Purple’s face basically screamed ‘ _You have got to be kidding me’_ for a split second before he vanished.

While Red, Blue, and Kafei tried to hack away at it, all of them missing spectacularly as the demon sprinted away in a blur and a cackle of laughter, Marin hurried over to Groose’s side to make sure he was ok.

“Groose…”

“I’m good,” he grunted, forcing himself into a sitting position and palpating his shoulder with his free hand. “I’m fine. I think… I aggravated my shoulder again, but…”

“Watch out!”

Something collided with Marin’s side, and she hit the floor in a tangle of limbs as Majora cartwheeled overhead, his leg passing through where her head had been a moment earlier.

She groaned, winded, and was surprised to find Midna laying on top of her. Even behind her weird headdress, her trademark scowl was apparent, and as she helped the taller redhead to her feet, her one visible eye was trailing the demon track star’s warpath with poorly suppressed anger.

Rather than apologize for knocking Marin down (not that she needed to, though Marin still half-expected it since it was the polite thing to do), Midna scowled at the monster as her boyfriend fired arrow after arrow impotently in its wake, every shot missing by a spectacular margin.

“Gods, I feel so useless right now!” she snarled, her fists clenched at her sides. “It’s too fast! And what is it with demons and dancing?!”

Marin had no idea what the scary smaller girl was talking about. She didn’t know what dancing had to do with anything, but as for it being too fast…

“Maybe I can slow it down,” Marin offered, bringing the Wind Waker to bear.

Ahead of them, Kafei was helping an injured Sheik to his feet and they were already down another Colin. Majora was busying itself running circles around Moosh as though taunting it as the bear bellowed in frustration, his every swipe missing its target. Aryll was chasing it, moving at the same speed but unable to gain any ground. The whole thing looks bizarrely like a skit from an episode of Looney Toons. Groose was back up and hurrying towards his chain ball, leaving Marin and Midna alone on their side of the field.

Taking a deep breath, Marin focused the Wind Waker, summoning a massive current of air to howl in a concentrated blast directly at Majora. She had hoped that the force of the wind would be enough to slow it down until one of the others could land a blow.

Miraculously, it worked. Sort of. With the roar of the wind passing over it, Majora was forced to a stop to brace itself and not lose its footing to the sheer force of the wind. A delighted smile crossed Marin's face. This could work! She might be able to help them defeat it once and for all!

Majora still had tricks up its sleeve, however. Turning to face Marin and Midna through the roar of the wind, it planted its feet firmly in the ground and raised its arms to either side. A moment later, they were being pelted with a barrage of small balls of pure energy. They struck the ground around them like machine-gun fire and detonated. With a roar of flame and dirt, Marin was blown off her feet and the world went dark.

* * *

When the dust finally began to settle, Midna found herself lying on the ground, covered in dirt and chunks of the floor tiles. The world around her was spinning in nauseating circles. Her ears were ringing, all of the sound around her distorting and warping so badly she couldn't concentrate. She felt like she was stuck inside a washing machine.

The ground felt cold beneath her cheek. Deciding she didn’t like that, she moved as though to push herself upright and felt pain lance its way through her left elbow. An agonized scream tore itself violently from her throat. A moment later she was leaning over, gulping deep breaths, trying to fight down the bile that was rising in her throat. Light, but it hurt! Only one of her eyes could see, of course, thanks to the piece of the Fused Shadow she'd taken to wearing like a helmet, but she didn't need both eyes to recognize what it meant when your elbow was bent backward.

She tried not to cry out again as her arm throbbed, but was unable to hold back a whimper that made her feel utterly pathetic. This wasn’t the time to go getting weepy like some insipid damsel in an action movie! Yeah, her arm was busted, and it hurt way more than books had ever prepared her for, but she really ought to be grateful it wasn't her back or her neck. And that Majora’s weird exploding orb thingies had hit the floor and not her face. She was still alive, and there was still a demon to take care of-

Wait. She’d been standing next to Marin. Where did she go?!

Ignoring the pain and nausea that came with it, Midna fought past the dizziness that threatened to upend her again and rose up on unsteady knees. The ground around her had been torn up like a construction crew had come through with an army of jackhammers. The dust was settling, but everything around her looked dirty and brown, and she couldn’t tell one lump from another.

Her eyes landed on a rather round looking boulder. No, that wasn’t a boulder, that was… that was Marin’s handbag. And that patch of yellow beside it…

Midna scrambled forward as quickly as she dared, which wasn’t nearly as fast as she wanted to. Falling to her knees on the rough, uneven floor, she used her good hand to toss aside the rubble, gasping in pain whenever she jostled her broken arm. A few heart-wrenching moments later, she’d cleared enough away that Marin’s face had been unearthed.

Her eyes were closed, but her chest was still moving. Midna felt relief wash over her for a moment before she noticed the horrific gash hidden in the girl’s russet tresses. Her scalp had been split open, and blood was pouring down her face in ruby streams.

Swallowing thickly past the dust in her throat, Midna reached out and jostled the singer’s shoulder.

“Marin… Marin, come on. Marin, wake up!”

The girl shuddered, her lips working as though to answer, but no sound came out. An icy sort of fear stole over Midna. She wasn’t dead, but… what if that blow to the head had done something to her brain? Goddesses, she couldn’t deal with this! There was too much going on right now!

Footsteps approached from behind, and Midna jerked around, half-convinced it was Majora returning to finish them off, only to find Groose stumbling towards them across the uneven ground. Laughter and explosions and shouts of pain echoed from somewhere nearby; Sheik and the others were still battling. But from the look on Groose’s face as he took in Marin’s broken body, you’d have thought the world had stopped turning. His weapon fell from his hands with a dull thud.

“Is… is she…?”

His voice was failing him. He couldn’t ask the question.

“She’s still breathing," Midna replied, choosing not to delve into her fears about her mental state. She wouldn't be doing anyone any favors. "We need to get her out of here. Help me get her up."

“Your arm-“

“There isn’t time, Groose! Help me get her up!”

‘Help’ was maybe a bit of an exaggeration. Midna could do nothing but stand back and watch as Groose knelt down reverently beside her, brushing the rest of the debris off of Marin’s legs before sliding his hands under her and lifting her gently off of the ground. He cradled her in his arms like an injured bird. When he turned, her head lolled drunkenly to the side, staining Groose’s arm with her blood. He didn’t seem to notice.

The battle for the others was going poorly. Majora was till taunting them, still frolicking around like an all-powerful ten-year-old on a sugar high, but none of the others seemed capable of touching him. Aryll was tailing behind the monster, always a few steps behind, seemingly incapable of gaining any ground. Sheik, Kafei, and two of the Colins, Red and Purple, were trying their best, but every swing seemed to miss the speedster by a wide margin. Moosh the bear was doing his best to draw its attention away from the others, but they couldn’t last for long. All it would take was another one of those volleys of explosive light to put Sheik or Kafei down. The Colins took too long to respawn, and Moosh was far too slow to handle this. But what else could they do?

Groose was examining the battle with hard eyes, his expression grim. Likely he was seeing exactly what Midna was. They were just about out of hope. Six against one should have been good odds, but the good guys were getting thrashed. Something needed to change, and soon, or else they were done for.

The sound of running footsteps met their ears, and the duo turned to see Blue Colin racing past them, eager to return to the fray. He’d apparently just respawned. Groose called out to him.

“Hey! Hey, Blue dude! C’mere for a second!”

Blue hesitated, uncertain, but upon seeing Marin and Midna’s injuries he hastened to their side. Almost as soon as he had drawn within arm’s reach, Groose strode forward and thrust Marin into his startled arms.

“Take her back to the barricade,” Groose demanded, his voice sounding gruff and commanding. “You make sure she gets there safe. Midna too. Hurry!”

“Uh, sure!” Blue responded, taken aback, but a moment later he was turning away, carefully picking his way across the ruined ground so as not to fall over with the injured girl in his arms.

Midna shot Groose a pitying look. She didn’t need to ask what he was doing. She understood, and she agreed.

“She’s going to be ok, Groose.”

“’Course she will,” he grunted, staring after Blue’s retreating back. “She’s tougher than she looks. You need to get goin’ too, Mid. With that arm of yours all banged up, you won’t be much help.”

She scowled, but there was no heat to it. He had a point. Reaching out, she punched him lightly in the arm, meeting his gaze with as much intensity as she could muster.

“You kill that thing for me, alright?”

“Heh. With pleasure.”

And then he was gone, scooping up his weapon before picking his way across the ground, the chain of his weapon clenched so tightly in his fist that they creaked.

Midna caught up to Blue without too much trouble. She wasn’t moving too fast out of fear of exacerbating the pain already shooting through her arm with every step, but then Blue was slowed by his burden as well.

As they neared the barricade, wondering how they were ever going to get over the ring of pillars in the state they were in, Midna glanced over her shoulder at the battle still raging behind her. Sheik and Kafei were shouting something at each other while Aryll charged after Majora, Moosh bellowing in rage. The Colins were scrambling, trying to find some way to shepherd the demon against a wall or something so that they could try to trap it, but it clearly wasn’t working.

Groose stalked forward, his shoulders tense, his scowl apparent even at a distance. He seemed completely oblivious to the others. In his left hand, the spike ball dangled close to his fist. In his right, he held the length of chain, letting it drag out behind him. As he drew nearer, he whipped the chain up over his head, twirling it like a lasso. No one else seemed to notice him.

Majora pulled a backflip, knocked Moosh into Sheik, sent Red flying into a wall, performed some bizarre kicking dance movement for no apparent reason, and then a moment later was sprinting towards Groose, its high, obnoxious laughter echoing off the walls.

Groose smirked. He waited, like he would wait for a charge in a rugby match, and right as Majora was about to slam into him, he stepped to the side with all the finesse of a bullfighter. As he turned, he whipped his chain outwards, directly into the path Majora was running. 

The chain wrapped around Majora’s midsection, bringing the dashing demon to a sudden, jerky halt that turned its ululating cries into a painful grunt that was immensely satisfying to hear.

Before it could recover, Aryll was there. Finally able to catch up thanks to Groose’s interference, the fire-eyed blonde charged in from the side, drawing back her hammer, and dealt a blow so powerful to the creature’s side that it was literally lifted off the ground and flung through the air.

Groose yanked the chain back towards him, jerking Majora along like a fish on a string, as it sailed towards him under the influence of his magical gauntlets. Whipping the chain forward, he jerked Majora back again, slamming the monster back down on the ground directly in front of Aryll, who delivered a second blow with her hammer, pummeling the demon into the ground.

The impact felt painful to watch. Majora screamed, struggling against the chains, but Aryll wouldn’t let up. As though she were possessed, Aryll brought the head of her skull-themed hammer down on Majora’s chest again and again and again and again as though its body were an anvil and she a particularly vindictive blacksmith.

Midna had come to a complete stop, her mouth gaping, as Aryll went to town on Majora. Blue was standing beside her, looking equally stunned. Sheik let out a shout of triumph, and Kafei catcalled, and a cheer went up from within the barricade, but Aryll kept right on pounding Majora like she was intent on grinding the demon into powder, Groose keeping a hold on the chain with a thin-lipped smile of grim satisfaction.

Majora’s screaming reached a crescendo. Something dark seemed to pool out of it, swirling about the ground beneath its body, although somehow Midna knew that what she was seeing wasn’t actually visible to the naked eye. The dark energy within Majora was growing stronger. This battle wasn’t over yet.

Without warning, the darkness encased Majora, compressing tightly within the demon before exploding outwards like a bomb. The chains that held it bound shattered, Aryll and Groose were flung clear of the monster’s body, and with a roar of rage, Majora pulled itself to its feet.

Only it was different now. Its arms and legs had fleshed out, growing thicker, more muscular. It had a waist now, and a stomach, shoulders and a neck, and a grotesque head that still featured only one eyeball. Spikes stood out from its shoulders, and its head was adorned with twin horns. The mask was still visible, forming the demon’s chest, with eyes where its pectorals ought to have been. It was thicker, more real, more human than ever before. But at the same time, the monster had never seemed more a demon than it did now.

Something exploded out of where its hands ought to have been. Tentacles, not unlike the ones that had grown out of the back of its head when the fight had started, only rather than hundreds there were only two, each one thick and long and horrifying.

Majora leaned back, arching its spine, and let out a cry that made Midna’s hair stand on end. High-pitched and distinctly feminine, it was like the wail of a child being tortured. It dragged the cry out, its body twisting and shuddering almost as though in ecstasy, and then before anyone could blink, it moved.

Arm snapping forward, it sent one of its powerful tentacles whipping towards the barricade. The limb wrapped itself around one of the pillars, yanking it back, lifting it clear into the air. A moment later, it turned and hurled the giant hunk of stone at the teenagers who, up until then, had been doing battle with it.

After that, everything dissolved into chaos. Midna didn’t see if Majora managed to hit anyone with its bulky projectile. Her eyes had gone wide at the sudden realization that, in this form, no place was safe. Majora could rip the barricade apart like Legos. They needed to find somewhere else to stash Marin and the orphans, somewhere far away from Majora, somewhere it couldn’t hurt them… but where?! There was no way out of this room, not with Link still battling Demise outside!

Blue seemed to be having the same thoughts as he stumbled back, eyes wide with horror. Inside the barricade, orphans were screaming. Another tentacle whipped forward, snatching a bottom pillar, yanking it away and hurtling it into the chaos. The removal of the pillar upset the entire wall, and suddenly the barricade was completely open on this side. Majora could walk inside. Majora could reach in with those whips and start pulling children out.

A light arrow exploded against Majora’s back, trying to distract it, and Kafei swooped by overhead, aided by his cape.

“Run!” he bellowed over the din. “Go! Get out of here! Take the orphans and-!”

Majora’s tentacle lashed itself around Kafei’s body, and a moment later he was flung away, his body crashing through the stained-glass window behind them, vanishing in a rain of shattering glass.

The others didn’t need any further motivation. Together, they scrambled to their feet and bolted. Linebeck with the unconscious boy still in his arms, Green Colin and a still-bleeding Ralph struggling to carry Zelda between them.

Blue fled alongside them, Marin drooping in his arms, and Midna had no choice but to join them.

Behind, Red and Purple were desperately hacking at Majora’s feet, trying to get its attention. Sheik was firing arrow after arrow, Groose lobbing chunks of broken pillar. Aryll tried to rush in from the side and was caught in the gut by a tentacle and thrown across the room where she lay unmoving. Moosh swept in from above and was snatched out of the air just like Kafei, hurled somewhere away behind the remains of the barricade where Midna couldn’t see him.

They were dying. Sheik and the others, they were all going to die, trying to buy them time to escape… only there was no escape. They ran to the wall, to the edge of the chamber, equidistant between Majora’s wrath and the body of Groose’s giant pet eagle, whose corpse still blocked the exit to the antechamber of the Temple of Time, where even now Midna could hear Link’s duel with Demise and see the flashes of distant lightning. There was no other way out. Majora or Demise, either way spelled death for her and the others. There was nowhere else to turn.

Linebeck tried to draw the orphans over against the wall, behind the other teens, where they couldn’t see the battle, but there was no point. There was no hiding this, not from anyone. Blue set Marin down on the ground before racing away, angling towards the window as though he were going to check on Kafei. Ralph slumped down beside the unconscious girl, his face pale, as Linebeck set the dormant boy down at his side.

Green Colin lay Zelda down on the ground and Midna half expected him to rush off and help the others, but he collapsed to the floor himself, his face pale, body trembling. One of the orphans sat down beside him and leaned against his shoulder. Zelda’s purse, still miraculously around her shoulders, tumbled sideways and hit the ground with the distinctive clank of glass, but Midna didn’t spare any thought for what was inside it that may have broken. There were more important things happening right now. Like the fact that they were all about to die.

Slowly, she sank to her knees beside the inert body of her best friend. If only Zelda were still with them… She’d have a plan. She always had a plan. Instead, she was…

Someone reached out and touched her arm.

“Midna…”

She jumped, then took ahold of herself with a firm hand as she turned to face the speaker. It was Ralph, who looked a half-second away from keeling over.

He cleared his throat and started again, trying to sound steady. “Midna, what… What are we supposed to do?”

She stared at him, taken aback. Why was he asking her? Why was this suddenly her responsibility? Besides, what did it matter? Neither she nor him nor Marin nor Colin nor anyone else over in this corner was fit to keep on fighting except maybe Linebeck, he was needed here to protect the kids anyway because he was literally all they had.

Rather than answer him, she let her eyes sweep the group.

Marin was leaning back against the wall, her eyes half-lidded, her normally bright and cheery face hidden behind a terrible mask of her own blood. Linebeck almost looked like he was talking to her, murmuring words under his breath as though hoping she’d respond. She still hadn’t moved.

Some of the orphans were crying. They knew. All of them knew. Down to only three defenders now, other than Colin’s clones, one of whom still hadn’t come back with Kafei. She hoped he was alright. She hoped they all would be alright. But hope wasn’t enough anymore.

"Link's still fighting," Colin said, loud enough for everyone to hear, but he turned and locked his gaze with Midna when he said it.

She stared. Link was still fighting. He _was_ still fighting, wasn’t he? There they were, all of them struggling with all they had to take down one demon, and there he was, off soloing the Big Bad, all on his lonesome, like it was nothing. She’d seen him in action enough that day to appreciate just what the Hero of Time could do. It no longer surprised her. Link had always been dependable, after all. She knew, without a doubt, that he’d be able to handle Demise.

That didn’t mean that he’d be able to rush in and save them at the last minute. They hadn’t seen hide nor hair of him since before Groose and Marin had freed them from Majora’s prison, and the demon mask had whittled down their numbers rather quickly. They didn’t have long before their time was up. And Link had enough on his plate as it was.

Midna turned her attention back to the battle. Majora had tried to whip Groose, only for the surprisingly able rugby star to catch its tentacle-like appendage in both of his gauntleted hands, wrenching the mask monster up into the air, twirling it like a lasso and smashing it into the ground. It forced its way to its feet, but before it could try to retaliate with its free arm, Moosh bounded forward and seized it in its jaws. Together Moosh and Groose backed away, pulling at the tentacles, preventing Majora from moving.

It turned its head to the side, its body glowing, preparing another one of its exploding balls of energy, when one of Sheik’s light arrows struck it in the face, cutting it short with a wail of pain.

A cry of delight sprang up from the watchers. For the moment, it looked like Groose, Moosh, and Sheik had Majora exactly where they wanted it. And if Sheik had had more arrows, Midna might have agreed. Only she knew that his quiver was running dangerously low. It would take more than what he had to bring this demon down. What they needed was something big, something powerful. One last attack to end it all.

Her good arm strayed down to the monster face bag hanging at her hip. She sighed.

She knew it was going to come down to this. She’d put it off for too long already, and now most of her friends had been badly hurt. Only, she’d had good reason… Or that’s what she’d been telling herself. It was true, the last two times she’d used the Fused Shadow in its entirety, she’d lost control. What if she went wild and hurt somebody? What if, in her already exhausted and injured state, it took too much out of her and killed her? Even worse, after the way the mask had reacted to her headdress, back before Sheik had knocked Majora off that orphan boy’s face, she was hesitant to use it. They were both powerful magical pieces of headgear with nebulous, shadowy powers. What if Majora knew how to steal its power? What if he turned it against them?

In the end, however, she knew she was simply delaying the inevitable. It didn’t matter what the risks were. They were out of options and out of time. She already had one friend potentially dead behind her. If the Goddesses thought they could take her boyfriend too, after everything they’d been through in the last year, they had another thing coming.

She rose to her feet started walking forward without realizing what she was doing, and Ralph called out in alarm, “Midna, whatever do you think you’re doing?! Your arm…! Now is not the time for heroics!”

Still walking, she turned back and flashed him a cocky grin that felt completely at odds with the heavier emotion of the moment.

“Now is exactly the time for heroics. Besides, so what if I’m down one arm? That just puts us back on equal ground.”

As she turned back, her magical glowing appendage extended itself from off the top of her head and flipped Ralph the bird. Good, embrace her inner rebel. If she was about to go down in a blaze of glory, then she was going to do it as herself. Screw melodrama.

Drawing nearer to the battle, she became acutely aware of the sound of her own heartbeat rattling against her ribcage. Adrenaline was coursing through her, making her head feel light. It was like she was on some crazy, giddy high. The kind you get just before a roller coaster, or when you know you’re about to do something stupidly dangerous, but you don’t care. The grin on her face never felt more twisted, or more right.

Before her, Sheik was holding his ground, barely, prolonging the time between each separate arrow he fired into Majora’s face in a desperate effort to make every shot count. On either side, Groose and Moosh were straining with all of their might to hold Majora back, but the demon was still advancing, taking slow, measured steps. He would be upon Sheik in seconds if her boyfriend didn’t run.

“Hey babe,” she called out languidly, sounding completely at ease, in stark contrast to the fire that was raging through her veins and the agony stabbing through her broken arm. “You mind moving out of the way?”

Sheik jumped, twisting around, nearly loosing his arrow into the ground.

“Midna?! What are you doing! You’re hurt, get back to the others!”

Aw, he was concerned… that was cute. And annoying. Why didn’t he ever listen?

Rather than respond, she merely extended her right arm, the good arm, outward. The bag at her hip jostled for a second, then three pieces of stone floated out of the bag, drifting upwards until they began orbiting around her head. The other pieces of the Fused Shadow. Already she could feel them granting her extra power. Her exhaustion seemed like a memory, though something fuzzy nibbled at the back of her head. Her exhaustion was still there, she just couldn’t feel it. She needed to remember that.

Majora was now completely focused on her, seemingly unaware of the fact that Groose and Moosh still held its arms trapped. Meeting the demon’s gaze, she felt emboldened by a sudden surge of dark excitement. Sheik stepped toward her, almost as if he were going to drag her away himself, and she calmly took ahold of him with her magic and shoved him roughly away. He looked stunned, but she had no time for him right now.

“Hey you,” she called out, though there wasn’t any need to raise her voice. “Yeah, You. Freaky tentacle porn reject. I think we’ve put off our crazy hat contest for long enough, don’t you? Let’s give the people what they’ve been waiting for.”

The twirling pieces of the Fused Shadow came to a stop, lining up perfectly with where they were supposed to attach to the piece she already wore on her head. Majora’s gaze was fixed on hers, but she couldn’t tell if it was afraid or excited or indifferent. Sheik yelled something, and Groose made a noise of alarm, but she wasn’t listening. She spared one last look for her boyfriend, a ‘just in case’ look, for if something went wrong or Majora pulled a fast one or the stress of using this cost her her life, and for a fleeting moment she felt her confidence waver. And then she heard her own voice in her head.

‘ _Now is exactly the time for heroics.’_

With a click, the pieces snapped into place, and darkness consumed her.

She’d used this power twice before now. Once when she killed Blind the fiery bedsheet demon with Kafei, and again when she saved Link from being stabbed in the back by his evil twin.

For the first time, however, when she put the Fused Shadow together, she didn’t lose consciousness.

It was as though she were floating in a vast ocean of cool, dark water. Peace stole over her. There was no fear, no excitement, no pain from her broken arm. There was nothing. Her eyes were closed, yet somehow she could still see everything around her in that odd, magical way that she didn’t know how to describe. Reality was a fabric of color, a tapestry of emotion, braids of magical cords stronger than natural law, and she was just one piece of that. A giant piece. A massive piece. A piece that dwarfed almost everything around her. Almost.

She could sense her friends nearby, the Sages standing out like bonfires beside candle flames, and Midna herself was a wildfire in comparison. So bright, so powerful, so awe-inspiring… There was another wildfire in front of her, one that matched her for size. Where she was a cool fresh spring, this was a vat black as pitch, colder than space. The analogies didn’t make sense side-by-side, but then, she didn’t know how to explain it. How could you describe color to a blind man? Sound to the deaf? It just was.

Hatred radiated off the other well of magic in waves, sorrow and suffering and despair. It was as if someone had distilled pure misery and decided to make a pool out of it. It was Majora. It had to be. Nothing else could be so disturbing.

Something else caught Midna’s attention. As strong as she was, as strong as Majora was before her, neither of them compared to the force of energy she could feel beyond the walls of their chamber. Whatever it was out there was so vast, so dark, it defied comprehension. Like comparing a molehill to the moon. A thought skittered across the void that was her mind; _it must be whatever Link’s fighting._

There would be time for that later. Time to help Link, time to defeat Demise, but only if she stopped Majora and saved their friends first. Time almost seemed like it had stopped moving, a brief moment that stretched on into infinity, but a second later she was surging forward, slamming into Majora, and they were locked in combat.

The battle happened on two fronts. To the outside observer, Midna was aware in a distant sort of way that her physical form had become something like a bizarre, giant, eight-armed octopus thing that glowed like radioactive sludge. She slammed into Majora as Groose and Moosh leaped away, her multiple arms pinning Majora’s to the ground as she scrambled atop him with all the poise of a drowning cockroach, struggling to keep its limbs under control while she maintained her position on top.

The second battle would have been completely lost to the untrained observer. It didn’t happen physically, but rather in whatever bizarre plane of existence that magic remained on. Their struggle would have been apparent only to those who could ‘see’ as she did. Maybe Sheik and the other Sages understood or could be trained to. Maybe Zelda would have, had her soul not been absorbed by Demise. Maybe. Too many maybes.

All of the energy stored within the Fused Shadow exploded out of Midna and hurled itself towards Majora, who countered it with a massive blast of its own. There was no grace, no finesse, no art. It was like two fire hoses were angled at one another and turned to full blast. This was an arm-wrestling contest, power against power, and only the strongest would survive.

As their energies touched, Midna gained a sudden illuminating insight into Majora’s being. It was like a lightbulb went on in her head. She could see into the demon, size it up at a glance. She knew how much power it possessed, how much it had drained from the boy, how much it had gained from their suffering, but above all, how much it had already spent trying to keep them down.

It was flagging. All the summoning, the dimension crafting, the monster creating, the shifting forms, fighting with her friends, all the light arrows Sheik had landed, Groose’s chain balls to the face, Aryll’s hammer. Repairing itself, keeping itself alive, had cost it so much. It was a battery only minutes away from giving out, a car running on fumes, but it would run at full throttle until it imploded.

In an odd sort of way, Midna almost pitied it. Demise, this demon, had clearly used it to facilitate its resurrection. It had ground itself to exhaustion trying to do its master’s bidding. Had it been allowed to hold itself back, Midna might have found herself putting herself up against a powerful foe, one with more knowledge and experience, one who could have overthrown Midna in spite of her sudden strength. Only, that wasn’t the case. It was every bit as exhausted as her friends were. And Midna had no room in her heart for pity.

The roar of energy exploding out of Majora began to wane, and Midna seized the opportunity. In the physical world, she raised aloft one of her many arms and a giant magical spear appeared in her hand. She didn’t know why it was a spear and not a sword or a knife or whatever, but it didn’t matter. She put everything she had into it, all of the energy the Fused Shadow could muster, and with a roar of hate and pain and rage, she slammed the weapon down straight onto Majora’s chest.

In the magical plane, her magic erupted outward like water flowing out of a dam, pushing the demon’s aside, invading Majora’s being, expanding outward, ripping through the invisible seams.

In both worlds, something exploded.

A moment later, Midna found herself once again lying on her back, staring up at the ceiling.

She’d been doing this a lot today.

A weak moan slipped out of her mouth. Sweet Nayru above, she felt like she’d just done a crazy triathlon. Her everything hurt. Even things she was pretty sure she didn’t have. The pieces of the Fused Shadow lay around her, but she could still sort of feel that odd magical world all around her. Her weird sixth sense that she thought she gained from the Fused Shadow remained with her even though she was only wearing one piece. Maybe all magic users eventually gained it. Maybe she could learn to use it without using the Fused Shadow at all.

Something was changing in the world around her, something magical, but she was too tired to figure out what it was. All she wanted to do was lay where she was and sleep for a year. Why was she lying on the floor in the first place? It wasn’t very comfortable…

A figured appeared over her. Whoever they were, the knelt down beside her and touched her face.

“Midna? Midna, say something!”

She frowned heavily. Was that Sheik? Why wouldn’t he shut up and let her sleep?

He pulled her into a sitting position. The world spun dizzyingly, and a sharp pain lanced up her arm, drawing a sharp hiss from her lips.

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t… Midna, open your eyes.”

His tone was so demanding. He could be such a pain sometimes. She complied anyway, staring at him blearily. The world beyond was still flickering, but to her eyes, it all looked normal. What did that mean?

“What’s going on?” she mumbled, leaning her head against his arm. Mmm, this was a better pillow…

“You… Just tackled Majora. I think it’s… Light, Midna, I think you killed it.”

She stared at his hopeful face for a moment, then turned her head. Some ways away, a small heart-shaped mask lay on the floor, unmoving. She could sense no energy inside of it. A large crack adorned its face.

“D’you think we should maybe make sure?” a familiar voice asked, and Midna glanced over to see Groose standing behind Sheik. His ball and chain were back in his hands, minus most of the chain, and Moosh the bear was beside him, licking his chops lethargically as if he hadn’t just been in a grueling battle to the death.

“Maybe…” Sheik said, sounding hesitant, but Midna shook her head.

“Don’t bother. It’s dead. I can feel it.”

Groose shot her a confused look, but Sheik merely studied her face for a moment before nodding.

“Yeah… I think she’s right. Demons don’t really have souls, but I… thought I felt it passing.”

The world around them was still flickering. It made her uneasy. Her eyes glanced back at Majora’s inert form. Why did she think it had something to do with it? Gods, she was so tired, she couldn’t think…!

“Maybe I should smash it anyway, just to be safe,” Groose said again, looking surly. Midna smiled in spite of herself.

Opening her mouth to tell Sheik to take her back to the others, she felt her breath catch in her throat as, in the magical plane, she felt the world shudder. Slowly it began unraveling, as though it were coming apart at the seams.

Sheik had noticed her expression first and frowned down at her in worry.

“Midna, what-?”

She didn’t have to explain. The world around them flickered like a television that was losing its signal. Then another flicker, and another, and another, until suddenly, before any of them knew what had happened, they were back in the atrium of the Museum of National History.

Midna forced herself upright despite her exhaustion. She could feel the traces of Majora’s magic vanishing from the world. Everything in the museum had suddenly been shoved back into reality. She could feel the others, the Sages and orphans and the wounded. They were suddenly much closer than they had been before, only a few feet behind them. Majora’s Mask was lying impotently at her side.

And across the room, silhouetted against the afternoon sunlight streaming in through the glass front doors, three figures stood beside the Great Fairy Fountain.


	35. The Demon Rises

With a roar that sounded like rocks tumbling down a mountainside, Demise swung his massive jet-black blade towards Link’s body, putting his full strength behind the swing.

Link reacted without thinking, trusting his age-old Heroic instincts to counter the move as he brought his Hylian Shield up to bear, catching the brunt of the attack, throwing his entire body weight against it to force the blow away. Blessed as it was by the Goddess Hylia, the shield withstood the blow, seeming almost to force the blade away like similarly charged magnets, and in the brief second that Demise was thrown off-balance, Link allowed his sword arm to zip forward, the blade’s tip threading towards the demon’s abdomen like a needle.

The blade struck true, but rather than pierce the demon’s impossibly hard skin, the blade glanced to the side, scouring Demise along his ribcage, the metal kicking up sparks as though he were using a welding torch rather than a sword.

Demise bellowed in rage and pain, bringing the fist of his free hand down like a hammer where Link’s head had been, only the agile Hero had already hurled himself forward, hitting the debris-strewn ground in a practiced roll and hopping nimbly back to his feet.

His lungs were burning, sweat pooled down the sides of his face, his shirt was stuck to his chest uncomfortably and every inch of his bare skin stung with cuts and scrapes from the remains of the destroyed pillars that coated the ground all around them. In spite of all of this, and in spite of the fact that Link was going one-on-one against a veritable dark god, no fear wormed its way through his heart. Never in his life had he felt more alive, more assured that he was where he was supposed to be. The Triforce of Courage blazed on the back of Link’s hand like a tiny golden furnace, pumping light and life through Link’s veins. The Goddess Farore was with him, and that wasn’t all.

In one hand he carried Fi, the spirit of the Master Sword. Obnoxious at times, and not always as aware of situations as she ought to be, Link was nevertheless grateful for her presence. She was his constant companion through endless lives he couldn’t even remember. With her at his side, he could not fail.

In his other hand, he carried the Hylian Shield, blessed by the Goddess Hylia, whose soul he had come to understand had been reborn into the mortal form of a girl named Zelda. Zelda, who had lived as many lives as Link. Zelda, Link’s best friend, his girlfriend, his Princess, his reason for fighting. He would avenge her. He would bring her back. How was not important now, he would save those thoughts for later, but his rage, bottled up as it was, gave strength to his arm and daring to his strikes.

Finally, his sword arm still tingled with the remnants of Ciela’s gift. Those odd beams of light he could charge in his blade and fire off like shockwaves of pure energy. They served a dual purpose; providing him with a means of turning the tide in the battle against Demise in his favor, as well as reminding him what he was still fighting for, his friends and the orphans who were relying on him to do his Heroic duty and save the day.

No… this battle wasn’t one-on-one. It never had been. It never would be.

Demise had recovered from Link’s strike, a furious snarl apparent on his stony face. He hefted his jagged Ghirahim-blade skyward once more, absorbing a lightning strike through a heavily-riddled ceiling, ignoring the bits of building that rained down from above, and charged forward to meet Link once again, a wordless howl on his lips.

Link no longer feared the lightning. Raising his own blade, Link felt Ciela’s blessing charge it with light as he set his feet and raised his shield, willing to let Demise press the attack and allow himself the opportunity to choose how to respond. They had clashed blades a number of times in the few short minutes since the blessing of sword beams had returned to Link, and it seemed to him that after every time, Demise grew more and more impatient to end things. Perhaps he was embarrassed that a mortal was holding his own as well as Link was.

He half expected the Demon King to pull a feint and launch the electrical energy forward, as he had done before a few times. After learning that the shield could block the lighting with minimal risk to himself, Link had taken advantage of those moments to calmly catch the energy and turn the tables on Demise. Without a shield of his own, and without Link’s superior agility, a Demise without lightning on his blade was essentially defenseless. Link still needed to watch out for his blade, of course, but he always managed to land a hit or two before being forced to pull back.

Demise had seemingly learned, however, and chose instead to swing his blade toward Link with the electricity still dancing in phosphorescent blue waves along the jagged metal. To meet Demise’s thrust with a parry from his own blade would mean to allow the lightning to jump to Link’s weapon, which was clearly what Demise was going for.

Instead, Link caught the blade on his shield again, coming dangerously close to touching the edge with his shoulder by accident, and as Demise seized his opportunity and thrust his claw-like free hand forward where Link’s neck should have been, Link dropped down into a squat, the blow passing just over Link’s head. A moment later he was rising back to his feet, swinging his blade upward, the tip aiming for Demise’s throat.

The Demon King managed to pull back just far enough to dodge the hit. He couldn’t dodge the effusion of light that exploded out of it, however, and he took the brunt of Link’s sword beam directly under his chin.

Demise was literally blasted off his feet, hitting the ground with a hoarse grunt. He was lying on his back, blinking rapidly, clearly disoriented. For a wild second, Link was torn between disappointment that the blow hadn’t taken his head from off his shoulders and disbelief that he’d managed to knock this supposedly all-powerful demon to the ground.

The second passed, however, and Link was already moving, leaping high into the air, his sword raised, filling with light energy, poised to stab-

Something glinted in Demise’s eye. The moment Link’s feet left the ground, the demon’s sword was thrust into the air, pointed not at Link, but toward the sky. He was summoning a lightning bolt. Time seemed to freeze for a moment, Link’s heart beating sluggishly in his chest as he considered what was about to happen.

The lightning would hit Demise’s blade faster than gravity would carry Link’s body to the ground. All Demise would have to do is touch Link’s body with some portion of his blade and it would be game over. If he could somehow get his shield down…! But then that meant he’d have to give up on his stab…! Did that even matter if he was dead?!

The thoughts flickered rapidly through his head, but his body couldn’t respond quick enough. He was falling, both hands on his sword pommel, the blade pointed down, Demise’s body laid out below him, his massive blade pointed upwards, and the hair on Link’s arms began to rise, signaling the approaching lightning…

The world flickered.

Between one heartbeat and the next, the scenery around them changed. One moment, the two were locked in battle in the ruins of the Temple of Time amidst a furious thunderstorm. The next, they were back in the Museum of National History.

The lightning never came.

Link’s body landed atop Demise, his blade struck the demon’s skin, the light exploded outwards, and the tip pierced the demon’s chest. He’d been impaled, right where his heart ought to be.

Demise could only gape, stunned, as his sword hand fell uselessly to the floor beside him. Acting completely by autopilot, Link swiftly drew his blade out of Demise's chest and leaped off his body, his shoes landing on the familiar tile floor of the museum's atrium. He knew he ought to keep his gaze locked on his enemy, but he couldn't help but stare in amazement at his surroundings.

They were back. Back in the Museum, back in the real world. The late afternoon sunlight shimmering through the front doors was proof enough of that, but Link swept his gaze around anyway, seeing as though for the first time the hallways leading in to the various different wings, the staircase that lead up to the second floor, the shattered glass door where he’d barreled his way in as a wolf and the hole in the high wall that Mr. Happy had claimed Zelda had caused.

On the far side of the atrium, near the center-most hallway, stood a cluster of sweaty, filthy teenagers. Link’s friends. The orphans were there too. They were alive. The Masked Boy was nowhere to be seen. Had they done it? Was it all finally over?

The last thing Link noticed was the Great Fairy Fountain situated just to his left. It would have been unremarkable, compared to everything else that had happened, only something was hanging down from the statue at the center. It was Ganondorf’s body, still strung up by chains, covered in blood and hanging, motionless, amidst the reflection of coins shimmering in the water. It was the most peculiar sight Link had ever seen… or would have been, were it not for the Demon laying before him.

For his part, Demise had no interest in their new surroundings. His eyes, smoldering with hate as they were, remained fixated on Link. His sword remained clenched in his fist but his body was trembling, his free hand covering the stab wound in his chest as something inky black and gaseous poured out between his fingers. His breathing was erratic, and his fiery hair seemed weaker in the glow of the afternoon sun. He was dying.

Demise broke the silence first.

“I have said this… before. But I say it again. You are… the paragon of your species. You fight like no man, no demon… and no god I have ever known.”

Link didn’t reply. He didn’t have to. Link knew what was coming next, knew it though he did not know how. Some vague recollection from a life beyond knowing, the familiarity that comes when rewatching a movie you haven’t seen in so long that you’d forgotten you’d ever watched it. He knew how this would end.

“Yet… Something troubles me still, Hero,” Demise panted, struggling to pull himself upward so that he rested on the elbow of his sword hand. “Something about you… Something has… changed… in the intervening years since last we fought. You… do not feel… like a mortal. You are different from the mortals I knew, from even the mortal you used to be. What… What is this? What power is this that you have obtained? What is it that sets you apart from the others of your ilk? I must know… Before I fade back into the abyss. Tell me. What are you?”

Link frowned. What was he? He wasn’t sure that he could answer that question anymore. He was a teenager, a simple boy from Ordon, who liked to sleep, watch movies, and spend time with his friends. But he was more than that, now. He had been ever since the shooting. No, since before that. Inside, he carried the Spirit of the Hero. He was the Hero reborn, the Hero of Time, of every age in which the Hero had lived and fought and loved and died. He was a friend, a brother, a grandson, a student, and an annoying boyfriend. He’d seen himself today as a wolf, and as a ghost, and as a shadowy reflection of his own inner darkness. He’d done battle with his dark side, his greatest foe, and the Father of all Demons today and had come out conqueror. But in his heart, he didn’t feel any different. He still felt like Link.

So what was he?

The sound of a low, guttural bark of laughter caught Link’s ears, and he stiffened, his eyes growing wide with disbelief.

Slowly he turned his head toward the noise, his neck stiff and jerky as though his vertebrae had rusted over. His heart was hammering in his chest in brazen denial, but the laughter continued on, growing steadily stronger and stronger until it pierced the silence of the museum, echoing harshly through the dusty, open air.

Golden eyes flashed mirthlessly in the half-light. Blood still dribbled down his chin beneath his familiar sardonic grin. Ganondorf, the King of Thieves reincarnate, was still alive.

Link felt numb. Ganondorf… Ganondorf _couldn’t_ be alive. It was impossible. Literally impossible. He’d been stabbed through the gut by the Master Sword, lost to the ocean, strung up by Ghirahim and sacrificed alongside Zelda to resurrect the Demon King Demise. His body had been hanging, blood-soaked and unmoving, from the shackles that held him bound to his sacrificial pillar from the start of the ceremony until the moment Majora’s spell had failed and the teens had returned to the Museum of National History.

Even now his body remained chained to the statue of the Great Fairy, hanging limp, white T-shirt blackened with his own blood, his knees submerged in the water of the fountain, his arms held aloft awkwardly to his sides in the parody of a bird. Yet somehow, he lived… Broken, bloodied, sagging against his chains like the invalid he was, his eyes still glowed with the same murderous intensity they always had. His gaze was as steady as ever.

Only his eyes weren’t locked on Link.

The madman’s laughter was cut short by a sudden coughing fit that seized the larger boy in a convulsion of painful chest spasms, flecks of blood flying free of his mouth, peppering Link and Demise as his chains rattled against stone, though neither seemed to notice.

When his coughing subsided, he tilted his head to the side, spat, and then glowered contemptuously at the King of Demons who was still slumped down on the floor.

Something like disgust twitched at the corner of Ganondorf’s mouth, and he looked away as though unable to keep the demonic deity in his sights any longer.

“Pathetic.”

His voice was raspy and weak, yet it carried all the contempt that Link remembered.

Demise’s body visibly stiffened.

“Are you speaking to me, worm?” There was disdain in Demise’s voice, coupled with barely suppressed rage, but the intended intimidation was weakened by the fact that he was on his back, breathless from Link’s attacks. He seemed to sense this but chose to ignore it, glaring over at Ganondorf as if he were a homeless urchin choosing to critique the Prime Minister’s job performance.

“I seem to recall you being taken by surprise by one of my servants. Silence your tongue, knave, and be grateful you’re too far beneath my notice, else I’d rip it out myself.”

The threat didn’t carry the weight it was supposed to, probably also because Demise was on his back. To Link’s surprise, Ganondorf’s retort was swift in spite of his injuries, his voice even sounding a little stronger.

“I admit, your little pest managed to catch me off-guard, but when I saw what it was he was planning, I opted to let things run their course… if only to see how it would all play out, and how I could take advantage of the situation. It’s obvious to me now, however, that there is nothing to be gained from letting you run free. You’re a relic, a memory, a phantom of a dream of a world that is dead. Your lack of power is matched only by your lack of understanding, and I refuse to sit here a moment longer and allow you to squander my opportunity.”

“You… You dare…” Demise panted, his lip curling into a feral snarl as he struggled to his feet, looming over Ganondorf, limbs quaking with barely suppressed rage though he still clutched fitfully at his wound, bleeding spurts of black blood onto the tiled floor. “You think you can speak to me like this, insect? I am Demise, father of demons! You are nothing but the frail, mortal vessel of my rage! You exist because of me, your strength comes from me, without me you are nothing-!”

“You are an ignorant, conceited fool who takes credit for the successes of others,” Ganondorf interrupted, a definite bite to his words. “You spew manure on the ground and call yourself a farmer when weeds sprout up in lieu of a garden. You may have provided fertile soil from which darkness and contention would grow, but I am who I am because of decisions I have made, because of the strength that I have obtained on my own. You are nothing but a shadow, the precursor to my greatness, and your time has passed.”

“You arrogant meat puppet,” Demise began, looking like he was gearing himself up for some great speech, but Ganondorf cut him short with a derisive snort.

“Think, you imbecile. Think! If you’re the greatest, most powerful entity in the universe, how is it that you’ve been defeated by a teenage boy? I can see the confusion in your eyes. How does the answer still elude you? Even with your dim intellect, I’d have imagined you of all people should have recognized what it is that strengthens him. You, who battled goddesses in your quest for domination. You, who seek to match them, power for power. Look!”

Demise seemed torn. Part of him wanted to keep glowering down at Ganondorf, to not obey him, to not display any weakness towards the ‘pathetic mortal’ who, bloodied and beaten as he was, was upbraiding Demise like a stubborn child. The other part of him, however, clearly wanted to know what it was Ganondorf was talking about. Link could almost hear the echo of his thoughts, his questioning words from earlier sounding out through Link’s memories.

_“There is truly something different about you… Some quality that you did not have before…”_

In spite of everything Link’s mind was telling him, he found himself too enraptured with Ganondorf and Demise’s unexpected side conversation to put an end to the battle like he knew he ought to. Without really knowing what he was doing, Link raised his left hand. The Triforce insignia blazed with golden light.

Demise stared, expressionless. Link could feel something shifting between the three of them, but he couldn’t say what it was.

“The Hero is no mere mortal. He has received the blessing of the Goddess Farore. He carries her strength into battle. The last time he defeated you, he was merely a boy. How could you ever have even a prayer of defeating him now that he wields the might of the Goddess?”

Link blinked in surprise. If you twisted Ganondorf’s words, it almost sounded like he was complimenting him.

Demise scoffed, though the contempt in his voice didn’t match the careful neutrality of his face.

“The Goddesses are nothing to me. I am Demise, I am the Lord of Chaos! Their paltry strength pales in comparison to my own-!”

“The Goddesses _are_ power,” Ganondorf cut in, and Link was stunned to see him struggling to his feet. “The Goddesses represent the strongest force this universe has ever known. You reject their strength out of blind arrogance, and it is for that reason that you have failed again, just as you failed before. You were close, so very close… But let me ask you, Demise. Why is it that you did not sense the Triforce of Courage in the Hero you spent so much time battling? Why is it that you deigned to allow the Triforce of Wisdom to linger in the corpse of the Princess when it could have been yours the moment you were resurrected? And why is it that, even now, you still have not realized that I myself am the bearer of the Triforce of Power?”

He slowly turned his right hand over in its shackle, displaying the three golden triangles on the back of his fist, glowing in stark contrast with his sun-kissed skin.

Demise snarled, stepping away and half-moving as though to raise his blade defensively.

“You mock me when you yourself are a servant of the Goddesses?!”

"A servant?" Ganondorf spat. "It is not servility to recognize strength! I acknowledge the Goddesses' power, and it is through their power that I will conquer this world and make it my own! Through their power that I will take control of the Sacred Realm, and through their power that I will enter it and defeat the very Goddesses themselves! Their power will be mine! How could I ever settle for less? How could anyone who ever dared to call themselves strong?!

“You lost this fight before it even started! Had you truly possessed the power you claim, I would have lost the right to bear the Triforce of Power the moment you were resurrected, but I did not! The Goddesses themselves have looked down upon us and found you wanting! You’re a failure, a blimp in Hyrule’s timeline that the world has long forgotten! I am the terror that has besieged this land for millennia! I am Ganondorf!”

Standing there, ankle-deep in a fountain, chained to a statue of a naked fairy lady, coated in his own blood, he shouldn't have been impressive at all. And yet, somehow, impossibly, he was. Staring between Demise and Ganondorf, one an ageless demonic god-like entity of phenomenal strength, the other a reincarnated teenager with an attitude problem, Link had no doubts which one frightened him more. And it wasn't the one in the loincloth.

Silence reigned between the three for a moment, and then Ganondorf spoke once again, his voice as soft as steel.

“You took a portion of my strength to facilitate your resurrection.”

His eyes were golden augers, boring holes into Demise’s skull.

“I’ll be needing it back.”

His fist clenched, the Triforce blazed, and Demise let out an agonized scream that made every hair on Link’s body stand on end.

“W-what? What is this?!” he bellowed, sinking to his knees and clutching at his head as a dark vapor began seeping out of his skin, floating into the air, swirling towards Ganondorf. “How are you-? _What_ are you?! This is not… possible…!”

“Your time in this world has ended, Demise,” Ganondorf intoned quietly, very much like a magistrate passing the sentence of death. “You have been useful, a stepping-stone to advance my own agenda. But there’s no longer any point to your existence. Your curse, your memory, even your strength, fleeting as it was… Everything that there was to you is now mine.”

Demise roared in outrage, lurching forward with his blade held high as though to strike a mortal blow, only his body seemed to have lost most of its substance, becoming ethereal before Link’s eyes, almost translucent. His blade fell from his hand, passing straight through his flesh like he was a ghost, clattering impotently on the floor, and the King of Demons could do nothing but howl in rage and misery as his essence was slowly sucked into Ganondorf’s being.

Right about then, Link realized that he’d been standing still, gaping like an idiot, while this entire scene played out. Demise being sucked out of existence sounded awesome, but not if it came at the price of some sort of Ganondorf/Demise hybrid. Hefting the Blade of Evil’s Bane, Link decided there was only one thing he could do; kill Ganondorf before he finished absorbing Demise.

Unfortunately for Link, he came to his senses a little too late. The absorption process seemed to speed up as it went along, and right as Link readied the grip on his sword, Demise flickered out of existence like the extinguishing of a guttering candle flame, his impotent roar fading into nothing, and silence once again ruled throughout the atrium.

Link turned his gaze to Ganondorf, feeling uneasy tension bubbling in his gut.

The King of Thieves Reincarnate stood still, his head bowed almost reverently, apparently still ignoring the fact that he had a hole in his gut and that he was chained to a statue and that he’d just sucked up an all-powerful demon like he was a human dust buster.

Licking his lips, Link stepped forward, sword point raised, ready to deal the final strike before the situation got any worse.

Ganondorf’s eyes snapped open, glowing an ominous golden-red, and he met Link’s startled gaze with a crooked grin.

A moment later, Link was blown off his feet by a surge of dark energy. Everything around him, from the statue to the fountain’s base to the tiles on the atrium floor all shattered. Link landed on his back with a grunt, the wind knocked out of him, and as he struggled to push himself up he let his eyes drift to where Ganondorf’s body was now floating in the air, his chains still dangling from his limbs.

A cruel laugh bubbled up from out of Ganondorf’s mouth. His hair was lengthening, flowing almost like the locks of flame Demise had possessed, his skin growing dark, his body slowly enlarging, but the Triforce of Power still blazed on the back of his hand.

Something cold had settled itself in the pit of Link’s stomach. This wasn’t the Ganondorf he knew, but this wasn’t Demise either. This was something else, something dark, something new.

A new Demon had risen.

It still wasn’t over.

* * *

With a great, shuddering gasp, Zelda Nohansen opened her eyes.

There was a dull ache in the back of her head, the kind you get when you’ve overslept. The world around her looked strange and distorted from her position lying… wherever it was that she was lying. Where was she?

The ceiling above her was a dim off-white color, dotted with air conditioning vents and wide, inset light fixtures, all of which were turned off. Something warm was nestled under Zelda’s head. She moved her eyes to take a look and felt dull surprise wash over her as she took in the form of Aryll hero looming over her. She looked weird from this angle, her nose even more prominent, her hair in complete disarray. She was also sweaty. That was kinda gross. Why was she stroking Zelda’s hair like she was a cat?

Movement in the corner of her eye drew her attention, and she tilted her head ever so slightly to the side to see Midna standing with Sheik and Groose at the edge of their little huddle of people. All of them looked haggard, covered in dust and sweat and a multitude of cuts. Midna’s arm was bent in the wrong direction, but she hardly seemed to notice, her eyes wide with horror as they gazed at something in the distance.

 _Midna shouldn’t be here,_ came a confused thought. _Or Groose. Or Aryll._ Sheik’s being there didn’t feel weird at all, however. Why was that?

_Because they weren’t there when I sealed myself in the crystal._

She paused, frowning, as she examined that thought. It had come out of her with such clarity, such confidence. What crystal? How do you seal yourself inside a-?

The memories slammed back into her head with all the subtlety of a baseball bat, and she bolted upright, gasping for breath like she’d just finished a marathon.

The crystal! She'd trapped herself in a crystal so that Link would have time to beat Ghirahim and prevent the awakening of Demise! And he had come back and woken her up, and he'd been cradling her in his arms, when…

Ghirahim. He’d been there, somehow. Had Link messed up? Had he not done his duty? But then there were pillars, and Sages, and… Ganondorf? So he was here after all? And then… nothing. She remembered nothing after that. Had he done it then? Had Ghirahim sacrificed her soul to resurrect the Demon King? No, he can’t have… If he had, she wouldn’t still be alive…

In her frantic, pensive state, she spared no thought for the reactions of the others who had been huddled around her. Aryll and several of the others had let out cries of alarm when she'd jerked upright. Ralph was staring, face whiter than a bedsheet. Kafei and Linebeck were gaping in horror as if Zelda had just climbed out of an open grave. Even Sheik and Midna were silent. Everyone's eyes were on her, but she was too busy thinking to notice.

Colin’s familiar, timid voice broke through her thoughts.

“Z… Zelda?”

She blinked, then looked up to meet his gaze, frowning slightly when he pulled back.

“…Hey,” she replied, wincing at how dry her mouth was. Din, but her joints felt so stiff too! How long had she been out?

A small, slight form crashed into her side, and a moment later, Navi was sobbing into her shoulder, her tiny little arms wound around Zelda’s neck so tight you’d think she was trying to strangle her.

“Whoa!” she let out with an exasperated chuckle, patting the little girl awkwardly on the back. “Don’t knock me over! What’s with all of your faces? Geez, you’d have thought I died!”

She meant it as a lighthearted joke, something to ease their apparent tension, but it was as if Zelda's lame attempt at humor had bombed so badly it ruptured a dam. A moment later, she was swallowed in a mass of limbs as basically everyone around her tried to grab her in a hug. Sheik, Colin, Kafei, Ralph, Aryll, even Groose and Linebeck. She had to throw herself protectively over Navi to make sure the little girl wasn't trampled.

Everyone was crying, too. She had no idea why. Some of them were more graceful about it, like Aryll and Colin. Others, not so much. Groose was blubbering like a baby seal, as was Sheik of all people. She was touched, sure, but she was also more than a little disturbed. If this was how everyone reacted, then maybe she shouldn’t nap in public anymore.

Perhaps not at all surprising, Midna was the most composed of the lot, although if Zelda were in her place and had her arm broken, she probably would have been screaming. The shorter girl merely reached out to give her hand a squeeze, flashing her a watery smile and mumbling, “Welcome back.”

“Thanks?” Zelda replied, trying to shoo everyone away from her without looking rude. Seriously, she loved them all too, but… personal space. “You mind telling me why everyone’s gone crazy? And what happened to your arm?!”

The silence that preceded her question was almost as jarring as their sudden urge to hug her had been.

Sheik and Midna exchanged uncomfortable looks. She hated it when they did that.

“Zel, you… You don’t remember?”

“I remember Link waking me up. Early, apparently. I remember Ghirahim sticking me to some pillar. And dancing. And… that’s all. The next thing I know, I’m on the floor.”

Everyone was quiet, exchanging fervent, sorrowful glances. Nobody deigned to respond.

"Zelda," Sheik whispered finally, cutting through her thoughts as he knelt down at her side. There was an odd look on his face, like half of him was trying to be sympathetic while the rest was bracing for an explosion. “You… You were dead.”

Zelda blinked. She… was dead? She _was_ dead. Past-tense. She clearly wasn’t dead anymore, though. She didn’t… feel like she’d been dead. But then, how was a person supposed to feel when they’re brought back to life?

It took her a second to realize she hadn’t responded to Sheik’s pronouncement, and everyone else must have thought she’d gone into shock. She wasn’t shocked though, she realized. She didn’t really feel anything. She wasn’t numb either, she just… didn’t know how to process the news at the moment.

Licking her lips and trying her best to sound normal so her friends didn’t worry, she asked, “Where’s Link?”

“He’s over there,” Midna finally replied, stepping aside to give Zelda a better view of the rest of the room.

Everyone turned to look, not just Zelda. Some ways away, silhouetted against the dying afternoon sunlight streaming through the glass doors of the museum entrance, stood three figures. One small, one massive, and one that almost looked like it was chained up to the Great Fairy statue in the middle of the fountain. It was kinda hard to see against the light, but from the gentle throbbing on the back of Zelda’s hand, she knew one of them was Link. Their Triforce pieces resonated whenever they were near. A little disconcerting at times, sure, but comforting nonetheless.

It was the other sensation that was disturbing her. She could feel Link’s Triforce piece, sure, but she could also feel Ganondorf’s. It was right there, right in front of her… So then, the third figure, the one tied to the statue… Was that him?

And why was everyone else just sitting here, watching? Shouldn’t they be doing something? Making a break for the exit, or going to check on Link? Did no one else care that he was alone with both Demise and Ganondorf? Sure, he was amazing, but he wasn’t _that_ amazing. Being the Hero didn’t mean he was immortal.

Just as she was about to pull herself to her feet and march across the room herself, something happened. There was movement, a flicker of gold by the fountain, a surge of tremendous power, and all at once Demise was screaming in agony, a dark mist pouring from his body as he fell to his knees, his giant blade tumbling out of his grasp to clatter loudly on the tile floor.

“What’s happening?!” someone shouted, fighting to be heard over the sound of Demise’s wails.

"He's… He's absorbing Demise!" Midna gasped, only just loud enough for Zelda to hear. Zelda hadn't needed the explanation, however; she could feel it, feel the magic draining out of the ancient demon, siphoning into Ganondorf, filling him with immeasurable strength.

The onlookers could do little more than gape in shock. Even Link stood still, staring in stunned disbelief as Demise, the great Demon King, was torn apart molecule by molecule and sucked into Ganondorf’s being. With every second that passed, Demise’s form grew less and less distinct, becoming transparent, like a shadow or a ghost. Almost as suddenly as it had started, it stopped. Demise was gone, having faded into nonexistence like a wraith, only his discarded blade proving he’d ever existed.

And thus ended the great Demon King. It was almost… anticlimactic.

Now only Link and Ganondorf remained by the fountain. A dark, swirling energy raged within the King of Thieves, causing his Triforce piece to burn with added luster. His eyes cracked open, and a sinister smile adorned his lips.

For the first time since waking up, fear crept into Zelda’s heart.

An explosion of darkness tore through the room like a sonic boom, whipping the air into a frenzy, causing the statue to which Ganondorf was shackled to explode outwards, sending chunks of stone shrapnel flying everywhere. The glass front doors fractured, though the glass itself somehow held in place.

Blinking their eyes against the roar of the wind, Zelda and the others turned their gazes to Ganondorf, who was now floating in the air above Link, laughing as the darkness he’d absorbed began changing his body, making him grow larger, darkening his skin, enveloping him in a sphere of pure shadow. He floated in the center of a bubble of black evil, churning around him like a massive dark cocoon. Link looked miniscule in comparison.

The fear in Zelda’s heart grew stronger, but not out of worry for herself. It was Link she was staring at now, his sword and shield poised, his face determined. He was going to get hurt again. Just like he always did when the Goddesses decided it was time for them to be reborn. He couldn’t face this alone… No, whether he could or not, he _shouldn’t_ have to face this alone. Not when she was there. Not when she could help him.

Before she could move, Sheik beat her to it.

Letting out a long-suffering sigh, he plucked his bow from off the ground and turned to face the group, looking tired but still determined.

“I guess it figures this isn’t over yet,” he muttered, deadpan, though his words held everyone else at rapt attention. “I know most of us are down for the count, but… Link could use some backup. I’m gonna go out there. Anyone else feeling up to it?”

Groose stepped forward first, holding a large spiked ball in one hand, the chain of which looked to have been completely destroyed. Colin scrambled to his feet next, looking weary, murmuring something to one of the orphans and casting Ralph a concerned look. A giant blue bear ambled forward (whoa, what?! How had she missed seeing that earlier?!), and then Linebeck, pale-faced and scared.

“Well… I guess it’s my turn, isn’t it?” he said, trying to joke but sounding like he was going to wet himself.

“Atta boy,” Midna drawled, stalking over to her boyfriend’s side, shooting Linebeck an appraising look. “Who knew the old man had a spine? The more the merrier I guess.”

“And what are you doing?” Sheik asked, his voice flat.

“Me? I’m gonna go kill Ganondorf, just like I killed Majora. Y’know, since I’m clearly the muscles of this operation.”

“Midna, your arm is broken!”

“And you’ve only got like five arrows left in that quiver of yours, if that!”

Linebeck cleared his throat.

“Hey Sparkles, Emo. We don’t exactly have time for a lover’s quarrel. Besides, the short chick has a point- that creepy octopus thing she does is probably our best bet of finishing this without any casualties. Let’s just shut up and get this over with.”

Midna beamed gratefully at Linebeck, though the older man’s returning smile was distinctly sickly.

Sheik opened his mouth to argue again, but seemed to think better of it and turned away, turning his scowl towards Ganondorf.

“Fine, whatever. Let’s just hurry up and go. The rest of you- look after Zelda and the others. If it starts to go bad for us, see if you can’t escape out the front doors. We’ll try to pull the fighting away from them if we can.”

Zelda opened her mouth, indignant, to say something about how she didn’t need to be babysat, thankyouverymuch, but Sheik and the others were already hurrying across the room as quickly as they could, weapons secured tightly in their hands, faces grim.

Zelda sat back and seethed.

How was this fair! Why did she have to sit back and wait with the children and the injured like some bump on a log?! Why is it that, even in Sheik’s eyes, and Midna’s, and Colin's and everyone else's, she was still some dainty, pathetic princess who needed to be coddled and babied? First, the Goddesses push her away into a corner, and now her friends too?! Sure, maybe they just thought she was weak from having literally been dead five minutes earlier, but still! They could have at least asked her if she was up for a fight! Now she had to sit here and watch while her friends risked their lives and-!

She blinked, heat filling her cheeks.

Wait… why did she think she needed to sit here and watch? Because Sheik had given the orders to watch over her? She wasn’t some invalid, she wasn’t injured, she wasn’t exhausted like the rest. There was _literally_ nothing keeping her here. She could just stand up and walk away if she wanted. There were no walls here, no cages, no crystalline prisons to keep her willful spirit in check.

In spite of the roar of the wind, in spite of the destruction and pain all around her, in spite of the fact that her mortal enemy had just fused himself with the most terrible demon their world had ever known and was moments away from destroying everything she loved, Zelda smiled.

She was out of her tower.

Inexplicably, she felt like the Goddesses had ordained this moment. Looking down, they had seen how hard she’d tried to comply with their wishes, trapping herself in her crystal prison, putting her duty before herself. She really had done everything she could to prevent Demise’s resurrection. Now that their plan had failed, however, it was almost as if Zelda could hear their voices buzzing in her ears. Zelda had wanted to fight? Well, now was her chance.

She was up and out of Aryll’s arms before the younger girl could process what had happened.

“Wha-? No, Zelda, wait! It’s too dangerous!”

She held back a wry snort, ignoring her boyfriend’s little sister as she marched away from the huddled onlookers. Too dangerous? They were in danger no matter where they were, taking up the fight or hiding in the corner, or on the other side of the world. And as things currently stood, the only people in the room not injured or so exhausted they couldn’t stand up straight were Zelda and the orphans, and _they_ certainly weren’t going to be doing any fighting.

Link stood alone, his back to the group, sword and shield held high, no doubt or fear in his stance. Not seeing the others rapidly approaching, he was ready to face this great evil by himself, to do what needed to be done to save the day. He was the Hero. That’s just what he did. No hesitation. No complaints.

Bag swinging at her side, Zelda broke into a run, the Triforce blazing on the back of her hand.


	36. Scream

Link was at a loss for words.

After everything that had happened that day, every desperate footstep, every heart-pounding battle, after having finally defeated Demise, King of Demons, a veritable god in his own right… it all came down to Ganondorf.

Why? Why did it _always_ come down to Ganondorf?!

Forcing himself back onto his feet, Link licked his lips and tried to steady his breathing. His body ached all over from his incredible bout with Demise, his muscles sore beyond sore from every battle he’d been forced to fight that day, but he squared his shoulders and raised his sword and shield to the ready position. He would keep fighting, no matter how tired he got, no matter how unfair the odds. The Goddesses had chosen him… or rather, as Farore had told him last year, his own courage had earned him their blessing. He would honor that. As long as this evil threatened the world, as long as his friends were in danger, as long as the Master Sword remained in his possession, he would fight.

Above him, floating a few yards above the fountain, Ganondorf had encased himself in a swirling, black sphere of darkness. The energy writhed and popped along its surface like grease on a stove, and through gaps in the smoky veil Link could just make out Ganondorf’s form, mutating and shifting within his dark confines like some sort of demonic caterpillar in a chrysalis of pure evil. He wasn’t moving, probably struggling to fully consume and control Demise’s immense energy, but for all that he appeared to be wide open, Link hesitated to strike. Ganondorf’s eyes were open, glowing yellow-red from within the darkness, fixated on Link’s form. If Link struck, he would retaliate, he knew this in his bones without knowing how, and Link still wasn’t quite sure what it was he was up against. Still, if he didn’t leave his shadowy prison soon, Link would have no choice but to act. He couldn’t wait here forever.

As if in response to Link’s thoughts, the sphere of dark energy imploded, sucking itself into Ganondorf’s form as though he were an evil sponge. What remained was the hulking, bestial visage of the creature that was once Ganondorf, slowly lowering until it touched back down on the floor.

His body was massive, easily as large as Demise’s had been, only where Demise was all hard scales and silvery-black skin like some sort of futuristic chrome reptile bodybuilder, Ganondorf had apparently devolved into something more primal. Blue fur had sprouted all over the surface of his body, blanketing his barrel-like chest and hulking, muscular arms, the hands of which ended in sharp, flesh-rending claws. His hind legs now bizarrely ended in hooves, and even weirder, he’d grown a long sinuous tail that flicked back and forth in eager anticipation, not unlike a dog for all that it looked like it belonged to a wild boar.

By far the weirdest and most attention-grabbing change was his head. His hair had grown unbelievably long, flowing down his back and undulating in similitude to Demise’s literal hair of fire, only Ganondorf’s hair was clearly still hair. That wasn’t as odd as his face, though. He had a snout now, one that looked distinctly pig-like, and two utterly enormous tusks had grown out of his jaw, framing his face, yellowed and ready to impale. Any sign of the original Ganondorf was gone, replaced by this hulking gorilla/boar crossbreed demon from the depths of humanity’s darkest nightmares. On the back of his right hand, the Triforce of Power glowed with a fierce light.

Leaning back on his haunches, Ganondorf let out an earth-shaking bellow. Link’s insides immediately liquefied.

“At last…”

The hairs on the back of Link’s neck began to rise as the deep bass-like rumble washed over him and he realized Ganondorf was actually speaking.

“At last… At last, I have awakened. I am complete. I am Ganon!”

How, exactly, a person could speak with the muzzle of a boar and giant tusks sticking out of their mouth, Link didn’t know, but Ganondorf managed it. Looming forward, he extended a clawed hand and picked Demise’s discarded weapon up from off the floor. The blade that was once Ghirahim fit just as easily in Ganon’s meaty fist as it had in Demise’s. Link stiffened, readying his own sword and shield, praying silently that his strength would hold out. Clearly, it was time for round two, only this time Demise's strength had the added bonus of the Triforce of Power backing it up, and Link was exhausted beyond words. This would be impossibly hard, but he couldn’t back down…

“A shame,” Ganon intoned darkly, drawing his blade back, glowing eyes fixated on Link like he was a cockroach he was contemplating how to crush. “Here we are, mortals chosen by the Goddesses, yet you stand to face my combined might alone, while I have all the power of the King of Demons to draw upon.”

Something small struck Ganon in the chest, exploding with a fierce burst of light, drawing a pained hiss from the monster’s snout.

“He isn’t alone.”

The two Triforce-bearers turned, and Link felt dull shock wash over him for the umpteenth time that day as he was confronted by a cluster of his friends charging to his rescue. It was like a scene from an action movie, when all the good guys ban together at the final moment to take down the bad guy… actually, wait, that was _exactly_ what this was!

There was Sheik, his bow raised high, having clearly been the one who fired the exploding projectile at Ganon’s chest. All around him were his other friends; Midna, Colin, Groose, Linebeck, and… a bear? The one Marin had been flying on? Weapon’s raised and faces grim, they squared off against Ganon, trying their best to look like heroes from the legends themselves.

Only… Well, they didn’t exactly look the part. Sure, they had all the attitude, and they had some sweet weapons, but… from one glance, Link could tell they weren’t up for this. Every one of them looked totally beat, sweat and blood and dirt coating their bodies, faces haggard, shoulders struggling not to droop down. Only the bear looked ready to rumble, but compared to Ganon, he might as well have been a mouse facing a cat.

They weren’t ready for this. Their hearts were in the right place, and he loved them for it, but the only thing they could accomplish here was getting themselves killed.

Ganon, for his part, looked less than amused.

“Pathetic insects,” he grumbled, sounding almost as though he was talking to himself, like Sheik and the others were too far beneath him to address directly. “Defeating that clown Majora seems to have given them an inflated sense of purpose. It is time they learn their place.”

“I wouldn’t sound so high and mighty if I were you,” Midna snapped, her expression of loathing fierce even partially obscured as it was behind her weird stone helmet. “We’re not the same little teenagers you scared into hiding a year ago.”

Without further warning, Midna extended her good arm outward. The bag at her hip twitched, and three more large pieces of carved stone floated outwards, orbiting her head in rapidly hastening circles before they aligned, like the disparate pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, into one large bizarrely shaped stone helmet, completely encasing Midna’s head.

Link knew what was coming next; he’d seen her pull this off when his dark side had tried to stab him in the back. With a wail of rage and pain, Midna exploded up from off the floor, her body suddenly encased in a writhing, oily aura of pure magic that glowed black and orange like the setting sun. Several limbs burst forth from the mass of energy, wriggling like tentacles, hoisting her spider-like body into the air. There, using the full might of her Fused Shadow, Midna was a powerhouse of pure, destructive force.

In this form, she was larger than Ganon, and she all but radiated strength. For a wild moment, Link almost thought she alone might stand a chance… but one look at Ganon’s impassive face crushed that hope ruthlessly. He was staring at Midna like a duty at recess would a child throwing a temper tantrum. No fear, just impatience. He didn’t even bother to raise his sword.

Link wanted to cry out, to warn her, but there wasn’t time. It was doubtful she could even hear him in that state. Sheik and the others hastened to fall back, eager not to be accidentally crushed by one of her many arms, but Midna didn’t bother to hang around. Tossing her head like a wild horse, she charged forward with all the restraint of a runaway freight train, her numerous hands shaking the ground as she stampeded across the tiled floor, one free hand rising upwards, summoning a massive spear as if she meant to charge Ganon down and impale him in one fell swoop.

Mere heartbeats before she reached him, Ganon lunged forward, the clawed fingers of his free hand bypassing her spear and closing around the stone helmet of the Fused Shadow, completely ignoring the many tentacle-like limbs that flailed at his sides, and with borderline indifference, he clenched his fist.

The Fused Shadow was crushed beneath his grip like a graham cracker.

There was an explosion, a shockwave of pure magical energy, and a high-pitched scream of pain, and the giant, gelatinous glow monster popped out of existence like a bubble. A moment later, Midna’s body was tumbling out of the air.

Link cried out in spite of himself, realizing after the fact that shouting like an idiot was hardly going to help, but Sheik was thankfully on top of things. Vanishing into the shadows, he appeared in midair to catch his falling girlfriend before slipping back into the shadows and reappearing on the ground.

Midna’s body hung limp in his arms, but Link could tell from the expression on Sheik’s face that she wasn’t hurt, at least not physically. The shock of being so brutally disconnected from the Fused Shadow had likely knocked her unconscious, but if she were dead, Sheik likely wouldn’t be so calm.

Well… maybe ‘calm’ wasn’t the word. When he lifted his eyes from off Midna’s unconscious face, his glare would have turned a lesser man to stone. Delicately, as if they had all the time in the world, he turned and laid Midna on the ground behind him. Then, rising to his feet, he turned back to Ganon and hefted his bow, drawing another arrow from the nearly-empty quiver on his back.

“This has been a long time coming.”

Without further ado, Link’s would-be back up moved. Sheik fired his bow, Groose hurled his heavy spiked ball, the bear charged forward with a bellow of rage, accompanied by an army of Colins and a visibly reluctant Linebeck. They might as well have been ants.

Sheik’s arrow was blocked by Ganon’s titanic blade. Groose’s ball was swatted out of the air as if it were made of paper. When the bear drew within striking distance, Ganon caught it by the torso in one massive hand and, with a roar that dwarfed the bear’s in comparison, the giant pig demon turned and hurled it through the air where it slammed into the staircase leading up to the second floor, snapping the handrail in two and leaving the pitiable creature in a motionless lump.

Linebeck turned back, looking horrified, but Colin pressed on, swords held high. With one powerful backhanded sweep, Ganon sent the four Colins flying, the three copies vanishing in puffs of light. The teen hit the ground several yards away, weapon flying from his hands and clattering across the floor tiles.

Weaponless, Groose remained in place, fists raised as though he were going to punch Ganon into submission, though sudden fear and uncertainty painted his face an interesting green color. Linebeck had withdrawn behind the others, still clinging to his rod and looking for all the world like he wanted nothing more than to turn tail and flee but forcing himself to stay in place.

Sheik was still on his knees in front of Midna, his bow raised with an arrow knocked, but his quiver was quickly reaching its end. He had only a couple more shots in him before he was defenseless.

"Groose, take Midna and get out of here!" Sheik hollered over Ganon's roars of triumph, trying his best to sound calm and confidant, but the doubt and fear were easily reflected in his scarlet irises.

Groose scowled, shaking his head emphatically. “No way, Shadow! I ain’t leavin’ you!”

Ganon took the decision out of their hands. With a bark of laughter, he raised his sword, the point aiming straight at Sheik and Midna, and with a burst of speed and strength, he struck.

Link tried to run forward, tried to move to help, but he was too far and it was too late. He’d let himself stand still and watch, letting his tired limbs rest, for too long. He should have acted sooner. He should have forced his body to move through the exhaustion. And now, unless Sheik could drop down and grab Midna quickly enough to slip away through the shadows, his two best friends were going to be…

In a flash of green light and a burst of wind, a figure materialized in front of Sheik. Long blonde hair dancing in the unexpected breeze, hands held out to either side, she rotated her arms around her like she was forming a circle around herself, and a brilliant blue diamond of pure energy popped into existence, forming around her and the two teens. Ganon’s sword hit the magical barrier with an eruption of sparks and was forced, just barely, to the side, digging a massive furrow into the atrium floor, missing the teens by mere feet.

Without missing a beat, the girl whipped her left arm forward as if she were lobbing a softball underhand, putting her whole body into the motion. A sphere of condensed fire hurdled forward, slamming into Ganon’s surprised face, exploding in a violent wave of fire that had him reeling back with a howl of pain.

“Get her out of here, Sheik!”

If Sheik was surprised by Zelda’s sudden appearance, he hid it much better than Link did, who was openly gaping like an idiot. He felt like the floor had been suddenly ripped out from under him.

Zelda… Zelda was alive?

Sheik tried to argue. “I can’t let you face this alone-!“

“I wasn’t asking!” she snapped, impatient, sounding every bit the Princess she always denied being. “Get Midna and the others out of here, now!”

Sheik still looked like he wanted to fight, but Linebeck was at his side a moment later, scooping Midna into his arms, his rod lying forgotten on the ground behind them.

“Do as she says, Emo,” the pot-bellied security guard grunted, rising swiftly to his feet. “You’re not going to be of much help once you run out of arrows.”

A moment later, Linebeck was hurrying away, back towards the others. Groose and Sheik both hesitated a moment longer before turning back, heading towards where Colin was only just now climbing to his feet.

Ganon had already recovered from Zelda’s surprise attack, but he didn’t move to intercept the fleeing teens. His gaze was fixated upon Zelda, his look indescribable. Zelda met his eyes with a brazen glare of her own.

“Princess,” Ganon acknowledged, his tone mocking.

“Ganon,” she spat back, eyes murderous.

“I thought you were dead.”

“Ditto.”

A low, rumbling chuckle vibrated from out of his cavernous chest.

“Well. I can’t say I’m surprised; even the meanest part of Demise’s plan seems to have come undone. Stealing your Triforce piece would have been easier had you stayed dead, but I’m almost glad I get the chance to kill you myself. We make for an excellent parallel, you and I.”

A frown worked its way across Zelda’s face.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Surely you’ve noticed. We are both of us rulers, both tied to one another through fate, both bearers of a piece of the Triforce, chosen by the Goddesses… And while you house within your mortal frame the soul of a Goddess, I have now consumed and subjugated the essence of the very King of Demons who once did battle with her. So you see, we are very alike, you and I… More than humans, less than gods…”

He lowered his blade, pointing the tip straight at her face. She didn’t even flinch.

“…It’s just a shame that the Goddess you used to be cannot supply you with her former strength.”

Zelda bared her teeth, ready to respond, when Link let out a blast of energy from his sword that struck Ganon along the side of his chest, jerking him to the side with a pained grunt. As one, he and Zelda turned their bewildered faces over to Link.

“Yeah, that’s right, I’m still here!” he shouted, hiding his exhaustion behind a wall of false-anger. Well, mostly false; he was kind of annoyed that they’d forgotten all about him. Not that he didn’t appreciate the breather, but…

“Seriously, what kind of idiot turns his back on the guy he’s fighting?!”

Ganon blinked, looking momentarily stymied. From the expression on his pig-like face, he was torn between self-righteous indignation at being spoken to in such a manner and utter bewilderment that Link had apparently lost his mind. He wasn’t completely mental; distracting Ganon with pointless conversation had a purpose.

Groose and Sheik had gotten Colin and Ralph off the floor and had almost made it back to the others. If he could buy them a little more time, maybe they could get out of here before the real fighting started.

“And you!” Link continued, turning his blade and pointing it at a surprised Zelda.

She gawked.

“Me?!”

“What in the Goddesses’ name do you think you’re doing?!”

“Helping you out!” she practically screeched, her cheeks turning pink under her murderous scowl. “ _Excuse me_ , Hero, but it looks like you could use a hand here! And don’t you _dare_ try to feed me any of that drivel about me needing to stay back because it’s too dangerous, or because you’re the Hero and it’s your _duty_ to keep the Princess safe, because I swear, if one more person tries to tell me that today, I’m going to murder someone!”

It was Link’s turn to gawk as Zelda’s sudden, explosive tirade washed over him.

“What,” he finally cut in as he stalked toward her, impatient and bewildered, “are you _talking about_? When did I _ever_ tell you to go sit back like a bump on a log while I did all the dirty work?! In this, or in _any_ life?!”

Zelda opened her mouth to shout something back at him, but hesitated, realizing he was right.

“I tire of this," Ganon finally cut in, and Link realized his and Zelda's impromptu lovers spat had just been witnessed by their greatest foe. He felt his cheeks flush. Zelda's did the same.

“Together or apart, it matters little to me,” he continued, leaning back so that he loomed down over them more effectively, though for some reason he lifted his free hand and pointed it away from them, over towards a nondescript wall with nothing of interest around it. “The only thing it changes is how quickly I kill you and take your Triforce pieces for my own. The sooner I get those, the sooner I will have the complete Triforce in my grasp, and my goal of becoming a god becomes a reality. However… two against one seems a little unfair. How about we even the odds?”

Something crashed in the distance. A second crashing sound followed it, a little closer, and then another, and another, until finally the wall Ganon was pointing toward exploded outward, sending chunks of brick and stone flying everywhere. Something long and golden flickered through the intervening space at an incredible speed, only to be snatched deftly out of the air in Ganon’s fist. Link felt his stomach drop out; it was Ganondorf’s Trident of Power.

So. Demise’s Ghirahim blade in one hand, and Ganondorf’s Trident of Power in the other. He must’ve summoned it from the King of Thieves exhibit where he had dropped it earlier. Both of them were exceedingly powerful weapons in their own right, but both of them together…

Ganon raised the trident, pointing it at Link and Zelda, lightning arcing between the prongs, and the two teenage Triforce bearers readied themselves for the attack. Only rather than target them, knowing that Link’s shield could take the hit and Zelda’s magical barrier might be able to do the same, Ganon tilted his trident down at the last second and targeted the floor beneath them.

With a roar of rending earth, the floor tiles exploded and Link and Zelda were hurled backward.

Link hit the ground on his back and slid, his face and arms pelted with bits of gravel. Pushing himself upwards, he was met with the sight of a crater in the floor where he and Zelda had been standing, and the rest of the ground littered in chunks of broken stone and tile. Zelda was lying beside him, looking disoriented, and he hastened to her side to help her up. Nayru, even with everything going on, it was still good to see her again.

From the grateful look in her eyes after he helped her to her feet, she felt the same. All of their anger at one another from a moment before had completely evaporated. Truth be told, Link hadn’t been upset with Zelda to begin with, he’d just needed some sort of outlet to release all his stress and the tangle of confusing emotions that had cropped up upon seeing his girlfriend alive and in danger again. Shouting at her had seemed like a good idea, but there were much better ways of making up. They’d just have to wait till later, preferably when someone wasn’t trying to kill them.

“Are you sure you’re up to this?” he whispered hastily, turning his head to sneak a look at their foe. Ganon seemed content to let them stew in their fear for a moment as he languidly stomped across the atrium towards them. Between the ruined fountain and the crater in the ground, he had to trek the long way around to get to them, but he didn’t appear bothered in the least. He seemed like a cat toying with a pair of lizards, drawing out their suffering for his own amusement, confident about his own obvious superiority.

“Yes!” Zelda snapped, sounding livid. A heartbeat later, and in a much more subdued tone, she added, “What about you?”

Link shrugged. “Honestly? I’m about a half-second away from keeling over from exhaustion.”

In spite of everything, Zelda snickered.

“Where’s that heroic confidence of yours?”

He flashed her a roguish grin. “Eh, I figure since you’re already my girlfriend, there’s no need for me to keep trying to impress you, right?”

Zelda stared. “Who told you that lie?”

Link laughed. “Really, though… you’re ok?”

“Link, I swear to Din-!”

“This has nothing to do with you being a dainty little Princess!” he cut in, surprising them both at how angry he suddenly sounded. “My girlfriend was just dead five minutes ago, forgive me for being concerned!”

Zelda wilted somewhat, looking suitably chastened.

“I’m sorry, I… It’s been a hard day for me. I promise you, though, I feel totally fine.”

“Good,” Link replied, sounding a little gruff as he returned his attention to the battle at hand. Ganon was nearly upon them. “Because this is going to take everything we’ve got, and then some.”

“Just you and me and the fate of the world, huh?” Zelda offered, trying to sound lighthearted as the crunching of Ganon's ever-approaching footsteps grew louder and louder. He was nearly upon them. 

Link met her eyes and they shared a grin.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

A moment later, Link burst forward at a dead sprint, his shield held high, sword extended behind him, hoping his sudden action had given him the element of surprise. Ganon reacted immediately. Angling his arm back, he hurled his trident forward, its body spinning through the air in a ring of blue flames, bearing down on Link like a homing missile. There was nowhere around him to duck or hide.

One of Zelda’s compressed balls of flame came zooming past Link’s head, colliding with the trident in a fiery explosion that, while not doing any damage to the weapon itself, did manage to knock it off course. Deflecting what would have been a glancing blow with his shield, Link continued on at a full speed, angling his sword high, letting the sacred blade fill with energy.

As he drew close to Ganon, the massive pig demon pulled his sword back, poised to strike, and Link whipped his blade forward, taking a page out of Zelda’s book, sending a wave of energy careening straight for Ganon’s face.

The blow did little more than make the hulking beast flinch as the light beam collided with his eyes, but it was enough to distract him while Link closed the distance between the two. Rather than dive straight for his chest with his blade like he wanted to, Link chose instead to duck low, rolling in between Ganon's legs out of fear that his age-old rival would expect the frontal blow. Link popped up behind him before he could recover and spun around, aiming his blade directly at his foe’s exposed back.

A split second before Link’s sword made contact, Ganon’s body flickered into nothingness.

Link nearly lost his balance as his swing missed its target. Blinking rapidly, breath coming out in heaving gasps, Link spun around, searching for his target. Ganon vanished? What, like he teleported? Or turned invisible? Since when could he do that?!

A familiar gasp caught his attention and Zelda cried out, but before she could get the words out something shifted somewhere to Link’s right. He wasn’t sure what tipped him off; some sixth sense, countless lifetimes of fighting experience, or maybe Ganon’s bloodlust was just that palpable, but Link just barely managed to get his shield up before Ganon’s blade connected with his side, and Link’s body was literally thrown across the room from the force of the blow. He hit the ground with a grunt that took the wind from his lungs, rolling over several times and nearly dropping his sword. He was pretty sure he’d managed to slice his leg with it regardless.

By the time he finally stopped sliding, he was completely disoriented. The world was spinning like the teacups at Disney World. He tried to push himself upright and somehow managed to poke his sword into his shoe. He had no idea how that made any sense. Goddesses, if he didn't get up, Ganon was going to skewer him!

Someone seized him by the arm and hoisted him to his feet. He swayed drunkenly for a moment, still struggling to breathe, but he knew without having to see her that it was Zelda. He could feel her Triforce piece. She must have teleported across the room to save him. Seriously, why did she get the cool magic? That skill would have been really useful for a Hero to have…

“Come on, Link, snap out of it! He’s coming this way, and I can’t fight and carry you!”

Link let out a raspy chuckle. He wanted to make some comment about how his chances of survival would probably go up if she could just warp him everywhere, but he knew he needed to be optimistic. Ganon’s strength was incredible. Demise could hit hard, sure, but that was nothing compared to this. His shield didn’t look damaged in the least, and it could save Link from being cleaved in two, but it wasn’t going to be enough to prevent him from being knocked through a wall.

Ganon was slowly approaching from across the room again, smirking impossibly through that muzzle of a mouth of his, but before Link managed to get his feet under him, a soft whirring noise sounded out from behind.

He turned his head, glanced over his shoulder, then seized Zelda by the arm she was using to hold him up and jerked her down to the ground with a shout of “Watch out!”

Ganon’s trident whipped through the space their heads had been only heartbeats earlier, trailing magical blue flames as it swooped upwards, turning around to make a second pass.

“Blasted thing has a mind of its own,” Link grunted as he and Zelda clambered awkwardly back to their feet.

“Do you think there’s some way we can get rid of it?” Zelda asked, sounding breathless.

“Well, your fireball thing earlier didn’t really seem to scratch it, but we can try-“

“Look out!”

His eyes focused on the whirling spear, he didn’t notice Ganon stop or the way his chest expanded as he inhaled. A moment later, a massive blast of flames was bearing down on them, searing Link's skin even from a distance. Zelda barely managed to erect another one of her blue diamond shields, protecting them both from the worst of the attack. 

Link could see the strain on Zelda’s face as she put everything she had into keeping the shield in place against the might of Ganon’s flames. Thankfully, Ganon ran out of breath before Zelda ran out of stamina, but the moment the flames died down and Zelda let her shield lower, panting, sweat matting her hair to her face, a wreath of blue fire sliced down towards them. Ganon’s trident.

Link managed to shove Zelda away, catching the weapon on his shield, knocking it aside, but Ganon was moving again, summoning some sort of crackling ball of blue energy in the space just before his gaping maw.

Frustration was warring with Link’s fatigue now; he couldn’t keep up this war on two fronts. The only solution would be for one of them to hold off Ganon while the other found some way to dispose of his trident, only… Link didn’t know if there was any way to do that. Could it be broken? Could it be restrained? And could the person holding Ganon off survive long enough for the other person to find a way to do it? If he was being honest, he didn’t think he could. And while Zelda could apparently teleport at will, he didn’t know how long she could keep that up. That shield seemed to take a lot out of her. She had the heart of a warrior, but she didn’t have the experience that either Link or Ganon had. She just wasn’t used to fighting.

The energy ball fired, exploding on the spot Link had been standing, but Link was already moving, sprinting to the left, putting space between him, Ganon, and the spear. He realized a little too late that he’d lost track of Zelda right after he’d pushed her, but the sound of fireballs exploding against Ganon’s side let him know she was alright. That was good, let her distract him a moment and give him time to think… To push past his exhaustion and figure out a solution…

The trident was pursuing him, he could hear the flames whisking through the air, but he kept his eyes on Ganon. There had to be a weak spot… Ganon had to have a weakness…

Well, there was the Master Sword. The Blade of Evil’s Bane was supposed to be the only weapon capable of defeating the King of Thieves. Even after absorbing Demise, Link had to believe that Ganon was still susceptible to his weapon, but that meant that Link had to be the one to strike Ganon down. The sooner, the better, though that still raised the issue of getting close to him. And now that he could vanish into thin air, this was going to be harder than ever. None of that changed the fact that he didn’t even know where to begin fighting him. At the moment, the best hope he had was to catch him off-guard and sink his blade into his exposed back, but the chances of that happening were virtually zero.

Actually… Maybe now that he had his attention focused on Zelda, this was his chance to strike!

It was a desperate thought, an impulsive thought, the kind you get when you’re out of time and ideas and you’re too tired to think straight, but Link figured he might as well try it. No sense in waiting for a better chance that might never come.

Link turned, angling his way back around toward Ganon in a large arc so that the trident behind him wouldn’t catch up. Ganon was focused on Zelda, the two of them exchanging balls of flame, and while Zelda managed to skillfully dodge Ganon’s every shot through her teleporting or that blue magic shield she used, her return shots hardly seemed to faze Ganon at all. He seemed content to let her tire herself out before he got serious and landed a killing blow.

The fountain was behind him, close enough that an idea hatched in Link’s brain as he ran, and he silently prayed to the Goddesses that his insanity would pay off.

Zelda saw him coming, and to his delight, she redoubled her efforts in attacking Ganon, hopefully keeping him distracted with a slew of fireballs to the face. While Ganon roared in anger, he didn't notice Link's rapid approach or the way he leaped up on the edge of the fountain to give him more height. As silently as possible, Link leaped off the fountain, sword held high, poised to strike Ganon directly in the back.

With casual indifference, the demon twisted around and backhanded Link straight out of the air, sending him flying across the room.

He hit the ground with a grunt, feeling a couple of his ribs snap, and slid across the tile floor until his body thumped against the front desks. A tortured sound slipped past his lips as he struggled to breathe.

Light… That hurt… He should’ve known that wouldn’t have worked, but he had to try… It was the only thing he could think of, but now… Sweet Farore, he hurt everywhere. He was lucky he was even still conscious, let alone alive. And his sword was still in his hand. Goddesses, apparently ‘awesome grip’ was a blessing of the Triforce of Courage… He should really be counting his blessings right about now…

Only… well, Zelda was fighting Ganon alone across the room. He needed to get up, he needed to help her… Fighting past the pain, Link forced his hands to push him up, dragging his knees under him. Ignoring the stabbing agony in his sides, he grasped the top of the desk and heaved himself to his feet. His breath was starting to come back, but he could only take shallow gasps at the moment. Running was out of the question.

He had to get to Zelda… He had to…

The battle was still waging. He had to fight. He took a staggering step forward, then another. The tip of his sword was trailing on the floor, but his arms no longer felt strong enough to lift it.

They needed help. This was… This was too much. He knew that, together, he and Zelda had overcome the seemingly impossible on countless occasions, but though he didn’t really have any tangible recollections of his past lives, he was pretty certain that they’d never been up against something like this before.

They’d beaten Demise. They’d beaten Ganondorf. But he’d never come up against both simultaneously. This was unprecedented. And even working together, even with the blessings of the Triforces of Wisdom and Courage, there was a growing part of Link that was beginning to realize that this time, it might not be enough.

Ganon had a point, after all. He was chosen by the Goddesses just as much as Link and Zelda were. Maybe… Maybe this time, Ganon was supposed to win… Maybe this was a setup for the future. Maybe the Goddesses were trying to restore balance, or… or maybe Ganon could help bring magic back, or…  maybe there was some other plan in the works that he and Zelda knew nothing about. Maybe it was their time to lose. Maybe…

He was so tired… If only he had more strength…

_“I think we can agree that you will require more strength than your usual form possesses…”_

Link stiffened. That voice… He knew that voice. It had come from nowhere, echoing out of his mind, out of his memory… wait, no, it was a memory. Someone had said that to him recently, today even. But who?

_“Help will always come to those who ask for it, Hero. Remember that fact. Remember it when all hope seems lost.”_

Almost of their own volition, Link’s eyes drifted upwards, away from Zelda and Ganon, away from his huddle of terrified friends, across the battle-scarred atrium and towards the ceiling. There, on the high wall above the front desk, was a gaping hole. And standing inside it, barely visible in the darkness…

Mr. Happy, the museum curator, was smiling down at him.

Something cold flooded through Link’s veins. Mr. Happy! If that was even his name. What was he doing here? Better yet, why was he standing up in that hole like a creeper? Wait, hadn’t he told Link earlier that that was his office? Something about Zelda destroying it and her not having any respect for personal space. He’d told him that when he’d appeared before Link, right after Link had entered the museum to look for Tatl. But that wasn’t why he’d appeared before him…

_“You must ask for the aid you seek.”_

If there had been any moisture in Link’s mouth, it would have vanished. So… he had come for this. The past two times Mr. Happy had appeared before Link, he’d been trying to give him something, though he’d never said why or what it was. He’d even acknowledged that he didn’t know if he and Link were even on the same side. But…

If Mr. Happy could give him something to get the edge on Ganon, did it matter what the risks were? If it meant saving his friends, saving Zelda, and defeating Ganon, did he care what price he ultimately had to pay?

Across the room, Zelda screamed in pain, and Link made up his mind.

“Fine then!” he shouted, or tried to shout, letting his frustration and rage give strength to the words that his shortness of breath would not allow. “Fine! Have it your way! I need help! We need help! So help us!”

If anything, Mr. Happy’s smile widened. With almost sarcastic calm, he offered Link a small bow of acquiescence.

Ganon let out a roar of rage behind him, and Link turned just in time to see Zelda throw up another one of her sparkling blue shields, barely managing to deflect a condensed ball of flame that would have roasted her alive. The fireball rebounded off the magical barrier, ricocheting high into the air where it crashed into the ceiling with an eardrum-bursting explosion, sending chunks of plaster, cement, and sections of support beams raining down onto the tile floor below.

As it would happen, the hole in the ceiling opened up right above Link, and he had to throw himself out of the way to prevent being crushed by the debris. Large wooden cases toppled out of the opening, clearly displays from whatever room had been directly above them, and they hit the ground with the disharmonious tinkle of shattering glass as the cases were smashed to pieces. Hopefully, whatever was inside them wasn’t important, because they were probably destroyed now.

A wave of dust obscured the rest of the room, and for a moment Link thought that time had stopped. The sounds of battle had come to an abrupt halt. Zelda must have gotten away from Ganon in the confusion… that or he’d killed her. No, no, Link could still feel their Triforce pieces… Nobody was eager to move with such poor visibility.

Burying his face in his sleeve to keep from coughing, Link tried to tiptoe his way forward, careful not to step on any of the broken glass and give away his position. This momentary cease-fire was exactly what he needed to regroup with Zelda. He couldn’t leave her to fight this battle alone… And Mr. Happy clearly wasn’t helping. Unless having Ganon blow a hole in the ceiling and almost crushing Link was his idea of lending a hand.

As he snuck past the remains of one of the display cases, something caught his eye.

Several small, round objects littered the floor around him, most of them in different colors and sizes… Masks. They were masks. The exhibit above them must be the Terminian mask exhibit. He vaguely remembered going in there the other day with Medli, Marin, and Makar. That was the first time he’d seen Majora’s Mask, the mask he’d later be accused of stealing. Weird.

The masks were scattered all around him amidst the glass and rubble, but one mask in particular caught his eye. It had somehow remained fitted neatly atop a red velvet pillow, almost as if someone had lovingly laid it down on the floor directly in front of him amid all that chaos just so that he couldn’t miss it. It looked familiar too, in a way, although he didn’t really remember paying any attention to it the day before.

It was a normal Hylian face, pointed ears and an emotionless expression on its lips. Red face paint marked its cheekbones, and some sort of blue, inverted triangle-thing was set on its brow. The weirdest feature of all was that whoever had made it had decided to give it bushy, silvery-white bangs. It might have even been real hair. Still, there was nothing special or outstanding about this particular mask’s design, not amidst all of the other bizarre and fantastical masks from the Terminian exhibit that had rained down all around it… yet somehow, Link couldn’t take his eyes off of it. It… called to him.

Forgetting the battle, forgetting Ganon and Zelda and the plight of his friends, Link found himself kneeling down beside the cushion and gently lifting the mask into his hands. It felt like some kind of plaster, or maybe clay? Something… thrummed inside of it. He couldn’t really describe it better than that. It was like somebody was beating a drum, and the vibration was carrying through the mask to Link’s fingers. The Triforce on the back of Link’s hand was shining even more brilliantly, but no comforting warmth was spreading through him now. What did that mean?

There was little doubt in Link’s mind that this was Mr. Happy’s response to his plea for help. The ‘thing’ he’d been trying to give Link all day. _The face you wear…_ If Link put this mask on, would he gain additional strength? Would he find the power he needed to overcome Ganondorf? Or was this mask as evil as Majora had been? Would he lose himself to the influence of yet another demon?

Something crashed in the distance. Zelda let out another cry of pain. Ganon roared.

He was out of time to think about this. Taking a deep breath and praying that the Goddesses wouldn’t abandon him, he pressed the mask up to his face. It latched on, suddenly alive as the darkness took him, smothering him, burrowing in through his every pore, stabbing into his mind.

The world was consumed in fire and pain.

Throwing back his head, Link screamed.

* * *

Somebody was screaming.

It was unlike anything Zelda had ever heard. Not a wail of fear or pain, not exactly. It was a tortured scream, a scream of madness, like that of a soul condemned. High and blood-curdling, just the sound of it made Zelda’s skin writhe. It was coming from somewhere nearby. Not over where her friends were, but from the middle of the dust cloud, where the second floor had come crashing down. There, in the center of the debris, she could almost make out the silhouette of a person standing stock still, their head thrown back in apparent agony.

With a blast of power, a sudden explosion of wind blew the dust away, and as Zelda fought to keep her eyes open against the furious gale, she got her first good look at the source of the screaming.

It was Link.

Or well, sort of. It certainly looked like Link, only… well, bigger. Not like a giant, exactly, but like someone had copied Link in a photo editor and made his proportions just slightly too large. He stood maybe a foot and a half taller than Link should, and his clothes were all the wrong colors. It was almost like when an old picture tube television’s colors start to go out. His shirt was silvery-blue instead of green, his pants black, his hair practically white. His skin had also gone completely pale, and there were weird red and blue tribal markings on his face.

Most disturbing of all, however, were his eyes. He had none. Or rather, where his eyes should be instead contained beams of pure white light, like the headlights of a car. His mouth was the same; even wide open in mid-scream as it was, the only things Zelda could see inside was light.

Put together, this figure bore only a passing resemblance to Link, and having just seen her boyfriend a few minutes earlier, Zelda wouldn’t have assumed there were anything more than a few physical similarities between the two. That is, were it not for the fact that, in his left hand, the screaming figure clutched the Master Sword in a grip so tight you'd almost think he was trying to break the handle in two. Link's Hylian Shield was strapped to his right hand, but it dangled as though forgotten, like the person carrying it didn’t even know it was there and wasn’t holding it by its grip. Finally, the Triforce of Courage was blazing on the back of his hand with a fierce golden light. It was odd; Zelda had never seen it shine so ferociously before, as though it were battling for supremacy with the lights shooting out of the man’s eyes and mouth.

This had to be Link. No one else could wield the Master Sword. No one else bore the Triforce of Courage, at least not without having first claimed it from its previous bearer. No, this was surely Link, her boyfriend, the Hero of Time… but what had happened to him? The sound of his tortured shrieks had her insides curdling in the worst of ways.

“Who are you?”

Ganon’s voice was so unexpected that Zelda literally jumped in surprise. She glanced at him, but the pig demon had eyes only for this new Link, who was ignoring the both of them as he continued to scream defiantly at the heavens like a child.

“Speak, nameless deity!” Ganon roared, apparently not used to being ignored, and when Link continued his unending screaming, he let out an irritated snort.

“Fine. Continue throwing your tantrum if that makes you happy. If you think you can interfere with my plans, you’ve made a fatal mistake. You cannot hope to control that mortal vessel, as you are no doubt learning. I will teach you the error of your ways.”

Out of the air, Ganon’s trident swooped low, a ring of fiery death, and before Zelda could do little more than scream in horror, Ganondorf’s infamous weapon made contact with Link’s body.

He didn’t raise his sword or shield to block it, didn’t try to move, didn’t even stop screaming until he was struck. The weapon crashed into him, heavy three-pronged head bathed in magical flames striking the side of his face with such force that his entire body jerked violently sideways, his head twisting so far to the side that Zelda had to fight down the urge to vomit. The trident soared off, the deed done, and the screaming had finally stopped. Everything fell silent again as all eyes were on Link. He remained completely still, his eyes and hand still glowing, his head twisted so far that Zelda was certain his neck must have snapped.

Like a scene from a horror movie, Link’s head wrenched back the way it was supposed to be facing with an audible crackle. His body jerked unnaturally as he righted himself, like he didn’t know how his limbs were supposed to move. Once he was standing up straight again, he tilted his head, his glowing, hollow eyes settling on Ganon. The Triforce surged with renewed light, and a scowl worked its way across Link’s mannequin-like face. It took Zelda a moment to realize he had no burns or cuts or bruises from Ganon’s attack. His cheek appeared as smooth as wax. He looked completely fine.

Without any warning he was charging forward, sprinting at an incredible speed, a guttural roar ripping its way from his throat as he gripped the Master Sword in both hands and crashed into Ganon.

Ganon was ready for him, an eager smile on his pig-like snout, catching Link’s blade with Demise’s massive broadsword, but he gave an immediate grunt of surprise as, the moment the blades connected, a massive explosion of energy blew out of them in a shockwave, blasting dust and rubble away and nearly knocking Zelda off her feet. Before either she or Ganon could react, Link was already angling another strike, one that Ganon only just managed to block, and then another, and another, so fast Zelda could hardly track them. Every hit landed with a concussive blast that left her hair flying, every strike fueled with the rage that Link’s new form somehow didn’t seem able to contain, and somehow, impossibly, Ganon began to be driven backward.

Zelda could do little more than gape. What in the world…? She felt like she was a bystander in a superhero movie. What on earth had happened to Link in the few minutes that they’d been separated? Whatever it was, it had made him unbelievably strong, and at the best possible moment too since she’d been all but certain that, even together, they didn’t have what it took to take Ganon down. But something about this just didn’t _jive_. It seemed way too convenient, sure, but she was a firm believer in destiny and trusting in the Goddesses to give them what help they needed to fulfill their destinies and perform the Goddesses’ will. Still… there was something off about this, something that gnawed away at the back of her brain, filling her with anxiety so intense it felt like she had heartburn, only she couldn’t say exactly _why_ other than because this all felt so unnatural.

Ganon had finally given up playing defensive and was trying to land a few blows of his own, only Link was too strong. Even though the Master Sword was much smaller than Demise’s blade, Link was blocking his every strike. Ganon’s strength was still something to contend with, as occasionally his blows knocked Link to his knees, or tossed his body to the side like a ragdoll, but every time Link would get immediately back to his feet and continue his vicious, berserker-like attack, wildly hacking and slashing and screaming and displaying absolutely none of his previous skill or finesse. He was like a wild man, filled with nothing but rage and bloodlust.

A now-familiar whirring noise met Zelda’s ear, and she tore her gaze away from Link and Ganon just long enough to see Ganon’s trident making a second pass. Zelda’s breath caught; if it interfered, Ganon would gain the advantage, regardless of Link’s sudden, absurd boost of strength. Winding back her arm like a pitcher, she whipped her arm forward, hurling a compressed ball of flame. Her attack hit its mark, detonating like a grenade, but while she managed to throw off its rotation a bit she didn’t stop it, and she didn’t have time for a second fireball.

The trident crashed into Link from the side, catching him by surprise and knocking him, stumbling, away from Ganon, and as the larger demon took a step back and began preparing another one of its massive orbs of energy, Link turned his attention to the weapon.

Raising his blade skyward, the weapon filled with a tremendous silver-white light that exploded outwards as Link slashed his weapon through the air. The shockwave produced was incredible, far stronger than the golden ones Link had been using earlier. It ripped itself from the tip of Link’s sword like a sonic boom, tearing through the air at an incredible speed, catching the flame-wreathed weapon mid-flight and carrying it across the open air, slamming it into the wall that made up the external portion of Mr. Happy’s office. The wall caved in and the weapon vanished inside under a rain of rubble. It didn’t come back out.

All of this Zelda missed, however, as the shockwave Link produced to take down the trident was so incredibly large that a portion of it just so happened to come flying towards her. Panicking, she barely managed to dive to the side before being cleaved in two, landing heavily on her purse, feeling rather than seeing something fracture inside of it. She didn’t know what it was and had no time to look; honestly, why was she still carrying this thing around? Because she didn’t want to lose her phone? She should have just dropped it somewhere in the Museum, or better yet, left it with the others.

By the time she pushed herself to her feet, Ganon’s attack was ready, and it hit the ground at Link’s feet, exploding in waves of flame that charred the staircase and left a layer of soot on the floor tiles. Link, miraculously, seemed unaffected, having cleaved the waves of flame in two with another beam of energy from his sword. He charged back into the fray without so much as a glance in her direction. Seriously, he’d nearly killed her with that first attack of his! What was wrong with him?!

Mustering her strength, Zelda prepared herself to charge into the fray and lend Link a hand when one of Ganon’s wilder strikes tore a chunk out of the staircase. It came crashing down onto Link’s head, only for him to swat it out of the way with his sword like it was nothing, shattering the hunk of rubble into a million pieces that pinged off the walls like bullets. The warriors fought on, hardly even noticing.

A dull sort of understanding washed over her then. The battle had progressed to a level she could no longer participate in. She couldn't keep up with either of them, and with Link seemingly unaware of how his actions were affecting their surroundings, nearly killing her as he had earlier with that errant strike… maybe it was safer for her to pull back and let these two go at it alone. It tore her apart inside to leave Link behind, but… well, he wasn’t wholly Link right now. Right now, he was a threat to those around him, herself included. It’s not like she was accomplishing anything standing around anyway. She was useless. But maybe she could be of help to the others.

Making up her mind was painful, but she finally managed to steel herself and raise a solitary hand over her head. With a snap and a flash of green, Zelda vanished and reappeared next to her huddled cluster of awestruck friends, all of whom were watching the battle with bated breath. None of them noticed her arrive.

She saw Midna first, awake and standing next to Sheik, and she forgot herself for a moment, pouncing on her smaller friend from behind with an ecstatic cry of, “Midna, you’re ok!”, careful not to nudge her broken arm.

Midna let out a startled yelp. “Holy-! Din, Zelda, where did you-?! Get off me!”

"Sorry!" she mumbled, cringing, as she took a hasty step backward. "I got a little excited when I saw you were already back on your feet."

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Stupid freak just broke my helmet. Which pisses me off, sure, but…” Her red eyes narrowed in concern, turning back and looking out towards Link and Ganon, who were still duking it out near the stairs. “Zel, what’s happening over there? Is Link… Is he…?”

“I don’t know,” she replied as the others finally began to notice her. Sheik stepped closer to join the conversation, as did Colin and Linebeck. “He just… I lost track of him during the fight, and then the ceiling caved in, and then… This.”

“Well, it’s good, right?” Sheik cut in, sounding more like he was asking for confirmation than making a statement. “I mean… he’s gone full Super Saiyan. Look, he’s kicking Ganon’s trash! We might actually win this!”

The excitement in his voice didn’t quite reach his eyes. He was every bit as tense and nervous as Zelda was, but he was trying to put a positive spin on this. When Sheik takes it upon himself to be the optimistic one, you know things are bad.

For the most part, though, everyone else seemed to be watching Link’s battle with a mix of awe and wonder. Kafei and one of the orphan boys were still unconscious, but Marin seemed to have recovered enough that she was asking Groose in a weak yet impatient grumble where Moosh was while the rugby star tried and failed to clean the blood off her face with the edge of his shirt. The bear was apparently still lying unconscious wherever it was that Ganon had thrown him; he’d been too big to pick up and carry back, and it was too dangerous to go looking for him.

With the exception of the boy who’d been wearing Majora’s Mask, who was sleeping against Ralph’s side, every one of the orphans had their eyes glued to the fight with wondering expressions, tinged with fear as if they were watching some particularly intense action movie. All of the orphans, that is, except for one.

A certain little blonde girl did not look amused, not in the slightest. Her eyes were wide, but they were filled with unshed tears, and her face had gone completely pale. Her arms were wrapped tightly around her torso as she gazed out at Link, a desperate look on her face like she wanted to run over there and protect him. Zelda knew that feeling all too well, but it wasn’t to be, not for either of them. At this point, they would just have to trust in Link and… whatever had just happened to him. Maybe this would all turn out ok.

She said as much to the others.

“So then… you think this is the work of the Goddesses?” Sheik asked, knowing her well enough to know that she chalked up basically everything to the Goddesses’ handiwork.

Zelda didn’t answer. Honestly, she… wasn’t sure. Something about this particular situation still felt off, but she didn’t want to voice that thought aloud in case she frightened her friends any more than they already were. After all, if they couldn’t trust Link right now, then… who could they trust?

The others took her silence for acquiescence, and Midna went so far as to scoff under her breath, “New powers whenever the situation demands… what a dumb Hero.”

That struck a chord with Zelda, though she wasn’t entirely sure what it was Midna was talking about. Link _had_ gotten these ‘powers’ rather abruptly. It had to have been the work of the Goddesses. Who else could just jump in and grant you the strength you needed at the exact moment that you needed it?

Only… that didn’t sit too well with what she knew of them. The Goddesses didn’t interfere with mortal affairs, at least not directly. Link and Zelda had fought against insurmountable odds on numerous occasions at the Goddesses' behest, but they’d always been expected to do so by their own strength. Yes, the Goddesses usually set paths that helped their strengths build up in order to be equal to the tasks they were to face, but… Sudden leaps in strength like this were not their way of doing things. This was something else. Someone else’s hand was at play here. But whose? No Sage or spirit or mythological entity could stand up to the might of Demise, especially not when he was merged with Ganondorf and wielding the Triforce of Power. Hylia could barely handle Demise alone, and she was a goddess. So who else could do this but another god?

The battle between Link and Ganon had grown intense. Ganon had lost his trident, but that hadn’t really seemed to change much. Link was still going berserk, whacking away with his sword so inelegantly that you’d think it was a hatchet and not a legendary blade wrought by a goddess. Ganon, for all his speed and strength, was apparently having a hard time keeping up with Link’s raw fury.

He breathed fire, and Link would cut through the flames with his energy beam. He’d disappear, like he’d done earlier, fading away into nothingness, but it was like Link could sense him wherever he went, chasing along after him whenever he tried to flee as if he had a homing beacon specifically attuned to Ganon’s location. And he never got a chance to build up another compressed ball of flame, or hurl any more lightning, or go after his trident, because Link simply would not stop pressing the attack.

Which isn’t to say that Ganon wasn’t getting some good hits in. A powerful strike with his blade could still send Link's smaller form flying backward. He was no match for Ganon's raw strength, but Ganon seemed equally unable to compete with Link’s sheer tenacity.

Ganon knocked his body through the front desk, and Link hopped right back up and kept charging forward as if it had never even happened. He’d already been flung through the railing of the stairs, smacked against the base of the fountain with such force that the stone cracked and the water began dribbling all over the floor, and smashed into a wall with enough strength that an imprint of his body had been left behind. And every time, Link jumped right back up and kept fighting. It was like his body couldn’t sustain any damage, like he was every bit as sturdy as his shield was.

And still, Link and Ganon fought on.

Ganon struck, and Link was flung across the room. Link hit back with a powerful sword beam, and Ganon was blasted into the staircase. Back and forth, on and on, the two mythological figures waged their war, until suddenly it didn’t feel at all like Zelda was watching Link and Ganondorf. These were two strange beings, two unknown entities, wearing faces and names that didn’t belong to them. Everything felt surreal. She was so tired. She just wanted this to end.

The two strangers met in another powerful clash, Link’s blade striking down from overhead, Ganon blocking horizontally, holding his blade by the hilt in one hand and supporting the tip with the other, and suddenly, unexpectedly, something changed.

Ganon gave a short, pained gasp of surprise, and sank to one knee.

Link kept on the attack. Over and over, he struck at Ganon’s blade like he was chopping wood, impossibly fast, utterly manic, devoid of reason or logic, he hit and hit and hit and hit until finally, after an eternity of mindless strikes, Ganon’s strength faltered.

In the space between heartbeats, Link's sword cleaved Demise's blade in two. The tip of the Master Sword buried itself in Ganon's chest. A shockwave of power rang out, making Ganon's body spasm as though hit by an electrical shock. His golden-red eyes were wide with surprise. Nobody moved.

With a gentle whisper, like the passing of a breeze, Ganon’s body faded away in waves of inky black smoke, not unlike the monsters they’d been slaying earlier. No explosions, no screams, no dramatic portents signaling his end. He passed on into darkness so suddenly, Zelda had to blink several times to convince herself it had actually happened.

Where his body had been, a small golden triangle floated gently in the air.

Silence.

Someone let out a whoop, and all at once victorious chaos descended over the survivors. Some of them broke free of the group, Aryll and Colin and Kafei, racing down towards Link, running and jumping and shouting in victory as they charged towards their Hero, eager to celebrate his triumph and the fact that they were all, somehow, impossibly, alive.

“He did it!” Midna laughed, uncharacteristically giddy, sounding like she didn’t believe the news herself as she started forward at a considerably slower trot, careful of her arm, with Sheik and Ralph and Linebeck in tow, all of them with bright, relieved smiles on their faces. It was over. It was finally over.

So then why hadn’t the feeling of dread left Zelda’s heart?

When Midna had started to leave, Zelda had opened her mouth as if she were going to tell her to wait, but hesitated, suddenly unsure. She didn’t have any actual reasons to feel the way she did, and certainly the others would demand an explanation… It was just Link, right? There wasn’t any reason to worry. It’s not like anyone else felt like anything was off…

Subconsciously, her eyes searched out the blonde girl with the ponytail, and she was surprised to find her glaring in fierce accusation at Zelda, thick, wet tears dripping down her cheeks, her fists on her hips.

“What are you doing?!” she demanded, the sharpness she was going for somewhat ruined by the way her voice wobbled, choked by emotion. “Why are you just standing there?! Do something!”

Zelda gaped.

“You have to help him! Can’t you see how much pain he’s in? Can’t you hear him _screaming_?!”

Zelda’s mouth was dry. But he wasn’t screaming anymore… he hadn’t made a sound since he’d killed Ganon. Wordlessly, she turned back to face Link just as the others got to him.

“Alright, Hero, my man!” Groose’s voice carried easily through the atrium. “Way to go! You totally beasted that-!”

With a wordless howl, Link spun on the spot, lashing out with his shield arm, smacking Groose so hard in the middle that the larger boy was lifted off his feet and sent flying backward, crashing straight into Aryll and sending them both tumbling to the floor in a pained heap.

“Link?!”

Ralph only barely managed to bring his flaming weapon up in time to block Link's swing with the Master Sword, but the force of energy that exploded out of it blasted the redhead backward, knocking his blade from his hand. He rolled several feet and lay still, moaning feebly. 

Sheik and the others had come to an abrupt halt, obviously stunned at what had just happened, but a moment later everyone was moving, either racing towards or away from Link, shouting and panicking and generally dissolving into utter chaos.

Zelda felt numb. She’d sensed that something was off about Link, but… she’d never imagined he’d attack his own friends. Sure, he’d nearly hit her with one of his sword beams earlier, but she’d just assumed it had been a careless accident. Was it not, then? Had whatever this new power was taken hold of his mind and driven him to madness? Was this the price they had to pay to defeat Ganon?

And if so… How were they now going to stop Link?

The buzz of conversation had broken out around Zelda, but she was hardly listening.

“…take the orphans out of here through another exit…”

“…on?! Why is Link hitting people?! I thought we were…”

“…carry me! Remember, Sharp’s song? I can help, but I can’t walk, so…!”

Something grabbed her by the arm and shook her violently. It was the blonde orphan girl.

“Stop spacing out! You’re the Princess, aren’t you?! Go and do something! It’s your job! He’s always saving you! Go save him for once!”

Zelda recognized her finally. It was Tatl, one of the orphans Link had rescued from Tingle the hobo the morning before they’d entered the museum. She’d seen her picture on the news later that night when she’d snuck out to that ice cream parlor with Anju. She’d forgotten she was involved in this. Her usual look of sour anger was gone, replaced by genuine fear and desperation. She wanted Link to be safe as badly as Zelda did.

Over her shoulder, Zelda could see Navi and some of the other orphans staring at her. They were turning to her for help, for guidance. She was the Princess of Destiny. She was supposed to lead them. To guide them. To protect them. It was her duty.

To stop their Hero from killing them all.

Wordlessly, she turned and walked away. The battlefield was getting hectic again.

Colin was their saving grace this time. All Link was capable of doing at the moment was blindly charging forward and attacking, so Colin was keeping him distracted with his clones. One by one, Red, Purple, and Blue would charge forward, suiciding straight into Link’s warzone, then pop out of Green and do it all over again. It was ingenious in its own way, but it wasn’t going to stop Link or cure him of his madness. All it could do was buy them time.

Or that was the plan at least. Apparently, there was more to this spirit that had taken ahold of the Hero than mindless destruction, because before Zelda could make it even part of the way there, before she had time to wrack her brain for something she could do to save him, Link apparently wizened up and turned his attention on Green Colin, enraged. An explosive beam from his sword caught the younger boy across the chest, blasting him off his feet. The other Colins vanished as the real one was sent bouncing across the ground before coming to a rest face down on the floor, struggling to rise. He was bleeding.

Zelda picked up her pace, her heart hammering in her chest. She still didn’t know what to do.

“Wake up, Kid!” Linebeck shouted, confronting Link with a rod held unsteadily before him as though the older man were hiding behind it. Link’s wild swing knocked the rod from the ex-janitor’s hands, knocking him to the ground, but right before Link could bring his sword back around for the killing blow, an arrow struck his blade, detonating with a blast of light.

“Link, cut it out, it’s us!”

Sheik had arrived just in time to save Linebeck. While he hastily fished another arrow out of his quiver, his last arrow, Link turned his full attention to him. Linebeck seized the opportunity to scramble away.

“Come on, man, it’s me! It’s Sheik! Snap out of it already!”

Link took a menacing step forward, snarling, and Sheik drew the arrow back to his ear.

“I’m warning you!”

Baring his teeth, Link slowly began raising his sword. Zelda raised her hand, teleporting to cover the last bit of space, reappearing silently just behind Sheik.

"Link… Link, please… D-don't make me shoot you…"

His bow was trembling almost as much as his voice. The arrow was nocked, fletching drawn back to his ear, but Zelda knew every bit as well as Sheik did that he wasn’t going to loose that arrow. He was going to stand there, pleading for Link to come to his senses, right up until the moment when his best friend cut him down. Because that’s what Link meant to Sheik. After everything he’d done for him last year, during and after the shooting. He couldn’t hurt him.

Zelda moved forward, letting her hand rest on Sheik’s shoulder as she brushed passed him, eyes never leaving Link’s, though she did lean in and whisper, “I’ve got this,” in Sheik’s ear as she passed.

Sheik started, not expecting her to be there, nearly dropping his bow in surprise and blathering something that might have been a warning for her to stay back, but she had already forgotten him. Link was all she saw, stumbling forward, breathing haggard, his eyes nothing more than hollow pits of light. He was taller than he was supposed to be, wider, and even though he was only a few paces in front of her, he’d never felt so far away. What had happened to him? Was her Hero still inside him, somewhere? Could he hear her if she called his name?

“Link?”

He paused, his gaze landing on her, his head cocked to the side quizzically as if he’d never seen anything quite like her before. His breathing was still rough, but he’d stopped advancing on Sheik and the others. That was a good sign… right?

“Link… It’s me. It’s Zelda. Can you hear me?”

He didn’t react. He didn’t move at all. The light in his eyes hurt to look at, it glowed so bright. The golden glow of his Triforce piece cast shadows on the ground from the rubble. She stepped closer.

“Link, you need to stop this." She didn't know what tone would be best to take in this situation, but it didn't matter since she doubted she'd be able to get across anything other than sheer desperation and anguish anyway. Her voice felt like it was vibrating out of fear, but whether for her own safety or Link's, she didn't want to know. She took another step closer.

“You’re hurting your friends, Link. I know this isn’t what you want. Please, put your sword down. You don’t have to fight anymore.”

Link tilted his head the other way, but still made no motion to move closer or farther away. His sword hand twitched. Zelda moved even closer.

“Ganon is dead, Link. You beat him. For real this time, I can sense it. The fighting is over. You can let it go.”

Closer still, and suddenly she was within arm’s reach. She could reach out and touch him if she wanted. Or he could touch her. And crush her. Sheik murmured something behind her that sounded like a curse, but she refused to listen to his words. No more doubts. No more fears. No matter what, on the inside, she had to believe this was still Link. Link would never hurt her. She just needed him to know it was her.

“Let it go, Link, and come back to me.”

One more step and they were close enough that they could have been embracing. Link still hadn't made a move, but he was staring down at her, completely expressionless. Slowly, so as not to startle him, she lifted a hand until her palm cupped his cheek. His face felt cold and stiff and fake.

“You’re Link, remember? And I’m Zelda. And I love you. Come back to me. Please.”

Tears were welling up in her eyes. She didn’t like seeing him like this, with him looking at her like she was a stranger, with his friends terrified of him. She had to save him. She had to do something to wake him up. Someone was shouting behind her. It sounded like a girl, like Marin. If she got too close before Zelda could do what needed to be done, then he might lose control again and all would be for naught!

Throwing caution to the wind, she leaned forward on tiptoes and kissed him.

His lips felt like wax.

She let her eyes blink open as she leaned back, searching his face for any sign of recognition, but before her heels could touch back on the floor, his sword pierced its way through her gut.

She grunted, stunned. The pain was indescribable. Her hands moved of their own accord, grasping the blade where it extended out of her navel, hot, red liquid dribbling all over her fingers. The world spun. She sank to her knees, the hilt tugging free from Link’s fingers.

There was noise behind her. Shouting. Screaming. She couldn’t hear it. Her blood was hot on her hands, but she felt so cold. She lifted her eyes and met Link’s gaze, still just as distant and emotionless as ever. The light from his eyes was blinding. Growing brighter, and brighter, until it swallowed everything around her in gold and white. She fell backward but never hit the ground.

Whispers tickled at her ears as her consciousness finally faded away.

_Little Sister._


	37. Little Sister

When the light cleared, Zelda found herself lying on her back, staring at a ceiling made of gold-lacquered wood.

She couldn’t remember anything. Where she was. How she came to be there. What she’d been doing before she’d lost consciousness. The only thing she knew for certain was that her name was Zelda. Nothing else.

Slowly, she pushed herself to a sitting position and looked around.

She was lying atop a red silk cushion, set on top of some sort of large, ostentatious, ridiculously ornate palanquin. Only there weren’t any handles to carry it, so it looked more like a ceremonial four-poster bed. Past the white, translucent curtains that dangled all around her, she could see she was inside a large, circular gazebo made of old, weathered stone. The world beyond the pillars glowed a warm golden-white, only… there wasn’t anything out there. Nothing existed beyond the gazebo. Nothing but her and the endless light.

Strangely enough, she wasn’t afraid. She wasn’t entirely certain who she was, or where she was, or even why she was, but none of that seemed important at the moment. Something about her surroundings felt… familiar. That golden light… it represented safety, warmth, family. She just didn’t know why.

With hesitation that stemmed from her overwhelming uncertainty, Zelda pushed her legs off the cushion and let her feet touch down on the marble floor below. The stone felt cool, but not cold. A frown tugged at the corner of her lips as she stared down at her legs and feet. This… isn’t what she was wearing before. She didn’t know when ‘before’ was, or what she had been wearing then, but what she had on now was… different.

A plain white dress, long enough that it reached mid-calf, simple and unadorned. A pair of azure bracelets. Her hair hung unbound around her shoulders, a little disheveled but not tangled. Her feet were bare. Something about her getup felt familiar, like she’d seen someone else wearing it recently. Only she couldn’t remember who.

“Where am I?” she whispered to herself, so softly she might as well have been simply mouthing the words.

“You’re home.”

The voice behind her was so sudden, so unexpected, that Zelda shot up off the cushion with a startled shriek, her eyes wide with panic as she spun around, raising her hand reflexively to… to what? Why had she done that?  

The woman standing behind the bed was so beautiful that the very sight of her took Zelda’s breath away.

She was tall, far taller than Zelda, with skin like warm honey, full lips, a bold nose, and eyes that glimmered like burnished amber. Her hair was long and red, made up of a multitude of tiny braids, pulled back in a thick tail so that they dangled down above her shoulders, held together by a ringlet of worked gold. She wore a sleeveless dress in various shades of deep red, fastened round her waist by a dark sash. Her wrists, folded as they were across her chest, were adorned in cuffs of gold with inset scarlet gemstones. On her feet she wore sturdy brown boots. Her build was decidedly muscular; she looked like a powerful warrior queen, the kind who could strike fear in the hearts of her enemies with just a glance.

She was smiling at Zelda in a warm, familiar sort of way that was comforting in spite of her otherwise intimidating appearance. Though a stranger, she felt like she should know this person somehow…

Zelda opened her mouth, meaning to ask this remarkable woman a question, only… she had no clue where to start. Who was she? Where were they? Why did she get shoes when Zelda didn’t? Another voice piped up from outside the gazebo.

“Is she finally awake?!”

In direct contrast to the tall redhead, whose voice had been deep and stern, this new voice was decidedly high-pitched and perky. Its owner, a smaller, seemingly younger woman a little shorter than Zelda flounced past the pillars and into the gazebo a moment later with obvious delight, her warm brown eyes glittering with barely concealed excitement as she took Zelda in.

Zelda did the same for her. Everything about this girl seemed about as different from the first woman as it could possibly be. Her clothing was plain; an overly large white long-sleeved shirt, the kind men used to wear back in the days of the pioneers, hung loose around her shoulders, the laces not quite done up all the way, leaving the neckline plunging a lot lower than should have been proper for a girl her age (though why and where that thought came from, Zelda didn’t know.) The shirt, baggy as it was, was tucked into the waistline of a pair of snug brown pants that cut off just below her knees, showing off her tanned legs and her feet, bare like Zelda’s, that looked like she’d been walking in the dirt recently.

Her smile was dimpled and freckles were splattered all over her sun-kissed cheeks, but from the gap at her neckline, Zelda could tell the tan was just because she spent a good deal of time outdoors. Her hair was pulled into a ponytail, just like the other woman’s, only this one was fastened at the side of the new girl’s head, and every strand of her hair must have been a different shade of green. She’d threaded wildflowers through them, and they almost looked alive.

The sense of ‘familiarity’ came back with a vengeance as she took in this shorter girl’s appearance, and the feeling that she knew these two people and this strange place they were in was stronger now than ever. But she still couldn’t remember anything.

Licking her lips nervously, Zelda gave another stab at trying to speak.

“I… W-who are… where am…?”

_You’re home,_ the taller woman had said. Home? Was this weird place really her home? If so then… why didn’t she remember it?

The green-haired girl opened her mouth excitedly as if she were going to answer, but then hesitated and turned her head, looking over her shoulder as though in response to a voice that Zelda didn't hear. Turning back to her, the green-haired girl shot Zelda a knowing smile and slowly stepped aside.

A third woman appeared, walking in through the pillars, her eyes fixated on Zelda almost as firmly as Zelda’s were on her. All three of these strange women were beautiful, but this last one…

She was of a height with Zelda, with fair skin and black eyes that twinkled like the night sky. Her hair was long and dark blue, undulating down her back like a waterfall, and held back by a silver band studded with stars. Her dress was a deep midnight blue, with enough lace and frills that she looked queenly while still being conservative. Her expression, her countenance- everything about her seemed to exude serenity, yet there was something in her eyes- a sparkle, a glow- that seemed to suggest some unfathomable emotion. She had come here specifically to see Zelda. She could feel it in her bones. But who was this woman? Who were any of them? And what did they want with her?

The blue-haired final woman looked like she wanted to say something, but the green-haired one with the pants and the baggy shirt seemed to have used up all of her patience. Before she could speak, the shorter woman let out a bubble of delighted laughter and ran forward, her arms outstretched, tackling Zelda in an unexpected hug.

“Oh, Hylia… I’ve missed you so much!”

Something inside of Zelda shuddered violently, cracks appearing at the foundation of her psyche. Hylia? Who was Hylia?

The shorter girl stepped away, still smiling and laughing but wiping tears off her freckled, sun-kissed cheeks. Zelda’s eyes were wide with alarm. What on earth was going on? She turned her head to look back at the blue-haired woman as though she expected her to give her some answers, but the tall, imposing ginger had moved forward, blocking her line of sight. The smile on her face wasn’t threatening in the slightest, and her hug was so tight that Zelda almost thought her ribs were going to break.

“Welcome back, little one.”

The taller woman’s voice sounded distinctly husky, and sure enough, when she stepped away there were tears in her eyes too. Zelda’s world had taken another serious blow, and the image of a blonde girl in a white dress sitting on the edge of a cliff flashed before her eyes.

Hylia… She _knew_ that name…

Finally, it was the blue-haired woman's turn to approach, and her gaze was boring into Zelda’s as if she could read her very thoughts. She extended tentative hands, catching Zelda’s up in her own, drawing them forward.

“Do you remember yet, little sister?”

Zelda opened her mouth to say no and was forced to stop as a sob tore itself out of her throat instead. Tears were pouring down her cheeks now, fast and fierce, and she felt like she was falling apart.

What was going on?! Why was she reacting this way?!

“N-Nayru…” she choked out, hardly able to breathe, and a moment later she had flung herself into the other woman’s awaiting arms, her face buried in her neck as she cried her little heart out on her shoulder.

Nayru. This was Nayru, one of the Goddesses of Creation, Zelda’s patron deity, the being who had so often spoken to her in the past, giving her warnings of the future, whispering instructions and guidance in her ear. Nayru. The Goddess. And Zelda was soiling her beautiful dress with her tears, bawling like an infant.

But she couldn’t help it. The last crumbling segments of her amnesia had been blasted away, and her memories had come crashing down on top of her, thick and fast and unbelievably painful. Not just the memories of Zelda, the seventeen-year-old girl who’d just given her life trying to save the world. Not the memories of Zelda, the Princess of Destiny, who’d lived life after life, battling evil and fighting to keep the land of Hyrule safe. But older memories, from a time out of time, of a young, naïve little goddess who had wanted nothing more out of her eternal life than to earn the recognition and respect of her older sisters, and who had ultimately sacrificed everything she was just to keep her promise to them.

And so she dangled, helpless, sobbing like a child on the shoulder of her big sister. She’d finally found her way back home.

Zelda wasn’t sure how long she stayed there. How long does it take to cry out the sorrows of a goddess kept locked away in your heart for millennia? A long time. But nobody rushed her. Nobody tried to calm her down. Nayru merely stood there and held Zelda while she cried, stroking her hair. Din and Farore had joined in at some point, creating this big, awkward, four-person hug, but nobody stepped away until Zelda was ready. After some undefinable amount of time that literally could have spanned several eternities if they were where she thought they were, Zelda finally managed to pull herself away.

She half expected to feel awkward after that unexpected little burst of emotion (after all, these were goddesses she was dealing with), but strangely enough, she didn't. For the first time in her life, in any of her lives, Zelda felt like her old self again. She felt like Hylia. And these weren't omnipotent, omniscient, unfathomable, faceless deities; these were her sisters. She knew them. And they knew her. It wasn't weird to cry in front of them. They were her family.

Wiping unsteadily at her cheeks, conscious of the fact that she probably looked like a complete mess and not caring in the slightest, Zelda turned and sat back down on the silken cushion she’d woken up on, feeling completely drained. Nayru sat down beside her, her eyes still sparkling with tears as she gave her an encouraging smile. Din leaned back against a pillar, her arms crossed again, a contented smile on her face, and Farore plopped down on the floor, resting her chin in her arms and beaming up at her sisters.

“How…” Zelda managed finally, her voice thick and unsteady, “How is this possible?”

“You mean your being here?” Nayru clarified, and Zelda nodded.

“You died,” Farore replied bluntly.

Din scoffed, rolling her eyes at her sister’s lack of tact, and Farore’s cheeks flushed as she glared at her.

“What?! She did!”

“I know that,” Zelda supplied quickly, glancing between the two goddesses as Farore scowled and Din shot the shorter woman an exasperated grin and a rueful shake of the head. They were acting odd… Or were they? Looking at them, Zelda could see distinct parallels between their behaviors and the various facets of her older sister Tetra’s personality. Nayru was calm and understanding, Farore giddy and playful, Din strong-willed and brash. Did that mean they were simply mirroring sisterly behaviors from Zelda’s subconscious to put her at ease, or… Did the Goddesses of Creation really act this way? Zelda couldn’t remember what they were like when she was Hylia, but even though her past dealings with Nayru had been all serious and aloof and ‘but thou must’, nothing about this situation felt unnatural. She supposed, at the end of the day, it didn’t matter. The Goddesses could be however they wanted to be.

“What I mean is, how am I… here. With you. This isn’t the first time I’ve died, but I’ve never seen you before. Not since I was Hylia, I mean.”

“You can probably thank Demise for that,” Din answered with an indifferent shrug. “Him sacrificing your soul and all that to bring himself back. It must have woken up memories of who you used to be, and since you died so quickly after being restored to your mortal body, your soul must have made its way here subconsciously. The part of you that’s still Hylia hadn’t had a chance to be reburied yet under the memories and personality of Zelda.”

“Really?” Zelda breathed, feeling wonder flooding into her. To think, Demise may have inadvertently done her a favor when he’d tried to do her in…

“Well, yes…” Nayru added slowly, “but we may have helped guide that process just a little. Helped your soul make its way here, that is. I… _We_ needed to talk to you. And this might be our only chance.”

Zelda tensed, immediately assuming this meant that Nayru was about to give her some new earth-shattering warning about yet another impending disaster when the memories of what had literally just been happening the moment before she’d woken up here came flashing back to her, and she blurted out a hasty, “Wait, what about Link?!”

Nayru blinked. “What about Link?”

Zelda’s mouth worked frantically, her panicked thoughts piling up in her throat like a train wreck but no sound was coming out. What about Link?! There were a dozen different questions she wanted to ask about him, but she couldn’t decide which one to ask first! Was he ok? What had happened to him? Could he be returned to normal? Was he attacking her friends? Was he going to wind up dead like her? That last question brought out odd emotions inside of her. On the one hand, she didn’t want him to die. On the other hand, since she was already dead and awaiting her next reincarnation, then the faster he passed on, the faster they could be reunited… Was that terrible? Maybe. Probably. She didn’t know. The afterlife was confusing, even for someone like her.

Farore seemed to understand the gist of what she wanted, however, because she offered up a soothing, “The Hero’s going to be fine, Zelda.”

Zelda shot the shorter girl a grateful look, fighting off feelings of relief and disappointment. “So… He’ll live?”

The others nodded.

“And… And my other friends? Link isn’t going to-?”

“No. If our servant’s guidance was of any use, and I know that it was, what your friends need to bring the Hero to his senses has already been supplied. He’ll be fine again before you know it.”

What that was supposed to mean, Zelda had no idea. She decided not to press it. Instead, a different question came to mind.

“So then… was it you who turned Link into that… that thing?”

Surprise flashed through Nayru’s eyes, and Zelda half-expected her to go into some vehement denial that the Goddesses had even been involved at all in Link’s going crazy and murdering his girlfriend shtick, but then a moment later both she and Din were shooting Farore flat looks.

Farore flushed again, looking panicked.

“Whoa! Hold up! I am not responsible for his actions!”

“Whose actions? Link’s actions?”

“Look, just because he’s got a weird little crush on me,” Farore continued, heated, ignoring Zelda’s questions as she glared at her now-grinning sisters, “does _not_ mean that it’s my fault if he decides to stick his nose into other people’s business! Besides, it’s not like I’m the only goddess with connections to the Hero. No offense, Hylia, but your boy really gets around. He’s attracted the attention of lots of gods and spirits over the years- it was bound to catch up to him eventually.”

The meaning behind Farore’s words caught up to Zelda and it was her turn to blush.

“I- what?! Who?! Whose attention has Link ‘attracted’?!”

“She doesn’t mean it like that, Hylia,” Nayru explained soothingly while Din erupted into peals of gut-busting laughter over in her corner. Farore muttered something sourly that sounded like, “Yes, I do!”, and Din laughed even harder. “She’s just trying to say that Link has interacted with lots of different beings since he became the Hero, and some of them have developed a connection to him that lasts throughout his various incarnations. Like the one you two have, or his connection to Farore.”

Zelda couldn’t help the small flash of jealousy that sparked inside her as her eyes flickered to the beautiful verdant goddess on the floor, but she beat it down through sheer will-power. Farore was Link’s patron, just like Nayru was Zelda’s. Farore was definitely not vying for Link’s attention. Probably. Hopefully. It’s not like Goddesses fall in love with mortals.

Ok fine. She was jealous.

Farore shot Nayru a sharp look.

“Hey, if anyone has the right to have a ‘connection’ with him, it’s me. He’s claimed the Triforce of Courage, remember? More than once. Besides, I am the one who created him after all. I’m like, his mom. Slash cool big sister. Slash awesome aunt. Slash grandpa. But as a lady.”

“So… grandma?”

“Nah. The relationship is definitely more like a grandpa.”

Zelda was staring.

“You made Link?”

Farore gave her a weird look. “Of course I did. I’m Farore, the ‘Mother of All’. I created all life, remember? That includes you mortals.”

Oh, that was what she meant. Obviously. Clearing her throat, she changed the subject.

“So then who was it who did that to Link?”

Farore waved her hand absently. “Oh, some minor god who gets his kicks fighting demons. You probably don’t even remember him- I don’t think you interacted too much before. He met Link in some past life and developed a liking for him. Don’t worry about it, he’s just a clingy loser with an attitude problem.”

Zelda opened her mouth indignantly to inform Farore that she _was_ worried about it, _very much_ , since it was this ‘minor’ god’s fault that Link had gone crazy and killed her, but the conversation was apparently moving on without her.

“At least he helped the Hero get rid of Demise. That was a stroke of good luck, wasn’t it?”

“That wasn’t luck,” Din cut in, looking stern. “It was intentional, on his part. He butted in where he shouldn’t have. It’s his fault Zelda got killed-“

“I know, I know,” Farore cut in hastily, looking alarmed. “That’s not what I meant! I meant that even after Nayru’s plan fell apart, not only did they still manage to save the day, but Demise got destroyed. Like, forever this time. No more lingering essence, no more curse over Hyrule. That’s better than we expected!”

“Wait, so Demise is gone for good now?” Zelda asked suddenly, interjecting herself back into the conversation. “I thought he couldn’t be killed! Does that mean Hyrule is free from the endless cycle of misery it’s been stuck in?”

A series of confusing emotions flittered through Zelda’s heart. On the one hand, this was amazing news. Even if it resulted in Link being forced to kill her against his will, a result like this was a victory no matter the prices they had to pay. Hyrule was free. Her people would be safe from him, forever…

At the same time, however, doubt and unease began flooding through her. If there wasn’t a curse to ensure Hyrule would forever be in danger, then… did that mean she’d be reborn less often? And when she was, would… Link still be there? Would they meet each other in a life without strife and contention to bring them together? And did she have any right to be sad if that meant that Hyrule would be safe from tyranny and war? Even if it meant she’d never see him again?

Nayru laid a comforting hand on Zelda’s leg, pulling her out of her thoughts.

“His curse may be gone, but that doesn’t mean that evil is. While his curse did inspire a great deal of contention, the wicked beings who attacked Hyrule did so because they themselves were evil, and because the promise of the Triforce’s power is too great for the greedy and power-hungry to ignore. There will still be a need for a Hero in Hyrule. There's still need for a Princess to guide them."

Relief blossomed inside of her, followed by guilt. She shouldn’t be happy about this, and yet… she was.

“I guess I should have figured,” Zelda said, laughing half-heartedly to cover her confusing emotions. “I mean, we got rid of Demise, but it’s not like Ganondorf is gone forever. He always comes back.”

“True,” Din chimed in. “But maybe now, without Demise, he’ll finally have the chance to make better choices in his next life.”

Zelda scoffed. “I don’t think so. I mean, he never changes. He’s always the same.”

“Do you really think that?”

“Well, sure,” Zelda suddenly felt uncomfortable, with the eyes of all three goddesses fixed on her. “I mean… I’ve lived those lives. I’ve dealt with him countless times. Ganondorf will always be Ganondorf.”

“Hylia…” Nayru said softly, drawing her attention away from their red-haired sister. “Do you remember what it was you so admired about mortals back in the day? Before you became one?”

“They can change,” Zelda replied softly. “Gods are constants. They cannot rise or fall, or they’re not supposed to at least. But mortals… A mortal can become anything.”

“So why do you deny Ganondorf that chance?”

Zelda’s cheeks grew red. She felt like she was being lectured by her mother all of a sudden.

“I-I’m not stopping him!” she exclaimed, defensive. “I’m just saying he’s never shown the capacity to do so before! If he could have changed, why hasn’t he? Why does he always do the same thing?!”

“Well, Ganondorf hasn’t had the same advantages you and Link got," Farore explained, hopping to her feet and leaning against the palanquin-thingy on Zelda's left. "I mean, the two of you have lived… I dunno, a lot of lives since the days of Demise's curse. You've had a lot of chances to learn and grow. Look at you; sometimes, you regress into a whiny little airhead who sits around and waits to get rescued, and other times you're brave and fearless and fight with all you have. You change. And the more lives you live, the more you progress towards being a confidant, capable leader.

“Link changes too. He’s always been brave, that’s part of who he is, but sometimes he’s a loner, and sometimes he’s silly, and sometimes he’s completely serious. Sometimes he’s full of hope, and sometimes he’s cynical and jaded. But he’s grown over his many lives. Even Demise noticed. He commented on it while they fought. Link isn’t the same.”

“Ganondorf, however, hasn’t had all the lives that the two of you have,” Din said, transitioning seamlessly into the explanation where Farore left off. “In actuality, you can count the number of lives he’s lived on one hand.”

“What? That’s absurd,” Zelda cut in. “He’s had way more than that; I’ve definitely fought him more than that.”

“Yes. But most of the time, you were fighting the same being,” Din stepped closer, her eyes glowing a soft yellow. “Ganondorf obtained a power that made him almost immortal, and he was continuously trapped or sealed away, or else risen from the dead, so many times and in so many of your lifetimes, that he rarely had the chance to be reincarnated naturally. He simply lacks the world experience that you and Link have.

“On top of that, Demise’s curse got its hooks in him for the first time during the era of the Hero of Time, and it never let him go. Ganondorf may have been powerful in his own right, and that power may have a high capacity to corrupt, but he’s had the added disadvantage of Demise’s curse whispering in his ear, compelling him to attack Hyrule. So it’s not really surprising that you’ve always been driven to fight.”

Zelda blinked, trying to process this information.

“So… now that Demise is gone… Ganondorf is going to be a good guy?”

Farore snorted, and Din let an amused smile illuminate her face.

“I wouldn’t bet on it. He won’t have any memories of his past lives, of course, at least nothing more than vague impressions. But the next time he shows up, his combined past experiences will still probably influence his actions and the development of his personality on a subconscious level. He’ll probably still be a jerk.”

“What’s important,” Farore picked up, “is that he has more of a choice now. He’ll probably still pick fights with you over your next few lives, but one day, and I don’t know when, the chances that he’ll grow out of it are pretty good. Y’know, eventually. Besides, he’s still the King of Thieves, the one who claims the Triforce of Power by merit in nearly every life. He’s one of the ‘best’ mortals around, objectively speaking. One of the closest to the gods. To believe he’s inherently evil is to believe Din is inherently evil. And that’s not something you want to do if you’ve got any brains at all in that blonde head of yours.”

Farore smiled to show she was kidding, and Din sent her a playful wink. Zelda still felt like she was one misstep away from being erased from existence. These goddesses were weird.

Nayru cleared her throat, getting her sisters’ attention.

“We've gone really far off-topic, ladies. We don’t have much time left, and we haven’t gotten to the purpose behind our bringing you here.”

“Time?” Zelda asked, confused. What did time matter if she was dead? All these new thoughts about Ganondorf and Demise and Link’s existence were still ping-ponging around inside her skull. She didn’t think she had room for any more earth-shattering discussion.

Nayru smiled gently. “Just an expression; we’re outside the scope of time in this place, but your soul cannot linger here for very much longer. You’re no longer a goddess, Hylia. If we don’t send you back soon, your body won’t be able to take you back.”

“What? Take me _back?!_ ”

“Before you go, we need to talk about something important. Not Ganondorf, or Demise, or what happened to Link… We need to talk about you. About what happened to you all those millennia ago, when Demise threatened to destroy the world we tasked you with protecting, and the decision you made to give up your godhood.”

Zelda felt herself stiffen involuntarily, sudden dread flooding through her. And here it was… They were going to lecture her, she could just tell. Call her out for failing in her duty to protect the mortals, for having to resort to becoming a mortal herself and using the Triforce, their own power, to set things right. She was a failure and she knew it. They had to be so disappointed in her. She was disappointed in herself. She was hardly fit to call herself their younger sister. Bracing herself emotionally, Zelda set her shoulders and prepared for the worst.

“Hylia…” Nayru continued, looking like she was struggling, choosing her words great care. “What you did back then… Forsaking your heritage, casting yourself down, becoming a mortal… It was… it…”

Nayru faltered, and Zelda could only stare. Nayru had never faltered. Her older sister was perfect. She did everything right, everything. They all did.

Farore took over, laying a comforting hand on Nayru’s shoulder as she looked Zelda in the eye. Her gaze was uncharacteristically serious.

“Hylia… That was the bravest thing I’ve ever seen,” she whispered softly, imploringly. “I… I wouldn’t have had the courage to do what you did.”

“I wouldn’t have been strong enough,” Din chimed in, stepping closer and meeting Zelda’s startled gaze with a sad smile. “I’m still not strong enough. Not for that.”

Zelda’s heart was hammering sluggishly in her chest. What was this? Why were they saying such nice things?! She’d failed! She’d let them down!

“I never would have even considered it. Never, no matter what was at stake,” Nayru managed, her voice trembling. “But you, Hylia… You didn’t even hesitate. You loved them so much… You loved _us_ so much… You gave up everything. I… I’m so sorry…”

And then it was Zelda’s turn to hold a crying Nayru. The older, wiser, stronger, utterly perfect goddess sat weeping in Zelda’s arms, and the only thing she felt was numb.

“But I…” she whispered, her voice hollow and low, “I… I screwed up. I screwed up everything. It was all my fault that… that the mortals couldn’t use the Triforce. If I had been stronger, like you three, I could have defeated Demise on my own. If I had done what you told me to do, the mortals wouldn’t have been so reliant on me, and one of them could have used the Triforce like you’d planned. If I hadn’t asked to be there in the first place… If I hadn’t tried so hard to be like you… then your world… would have…”

Nayru pulled back, cupping Zelda’s face. Her eyes were red from crying, but her gaze was steady and firm.

“Be like us?” she chuckled weakly. “But why would you ever want to be like us when you’ve already proven that you’re so much better?”

All Zelda could do was gape like an idiot.

“You’ve changed. You did the impossible. You’re doing it again now. You’re incredible, Hylia. For all this time, we’ve been looking up to you.”

Everything she'd ever known had turned on its head. Her older sisters… they didn't hate her? They weren't mad, or disappointed? They looked up to her? To Hylia? The nobody? The screw-up?

Something inside of her, some weight she’d been carrying around on her soul for millennia, finally lifted. She felt so light, so free.

A watery smile formed on trembling lips.

“Thank you,” she whispered softly, turning and taking in the faces of all three Goddesses. “Thank you.”

“We’re out of time now, Hylia,” Nayru whispered, giving Zelda’s arms a quick, reassuring squeeze. “It’s time for you to go back. Now that Demise is gone, now that his threat has been forever extinguished, it’s likely that the part of you that is Hylia will fade away beneath the mortal known as Zelda. This means that we’ll never again be able to meet like this.

“Don’t be sad,” she added quickly as Zelda opened her mouth to cry out in dismay, “that is the way of mortality. Things change. That means things wither and fade away, but it also means that things can progress and grow. Hylia is gone now, but maybe one day you’ll make your way back here as Zelda. Maybe one day, you’ll change enough to transcend mortality and return to us, even without the Triforce. Maybe. Who can say what will come?”

“Is that possible?!” Zelda whispered, feeling stunned.

Nayru shrugged. “I don’t know. Before your sacrifice, I would have said it was impossible for a god to become a mortal. You tend to break the rules that don’t suit you. And if it means enough to you, I somehow cannot doubt that you’ll do it again.”

“Then I will,” Zelda promised, breathless with excitement and despair. “Someday, I’ll come home again. Someday. No matter how long it takes me. No matter how many lives it takes. I’ll find my way back to you. And I’ll bring Link with me.”

“Go then, little sister,” Nayru replied, a sad smile on her face.

Something was tugging on the back of Zelda’s consciousness. It really was time for her to go. There were a million more things she wanted to say, but they were out of time.

Din stepped forward, pulling Zelda into a standing position, pecking her on the forehead and enveloping her in another bone-crushing hug.

“Be strong,” she whispered fervently in her ear. Zelda nodded, hugging her back just as fiercely.

She let her go, and then it was Farore’s turn, kissing Zelda on her right cheek and squeezing her just as tightly as their sister.

“Don’t be afraid,” she mumbled into Zelda’s shoulder.

“I won’t,” Zelda managed to choke back, feeling like her heart was being ripped in two.

Nayru came last, studying Zelda’s face for a long moment before pulling her forward and kissing her on her left cheek. She rested her forehead against Zelda’s, letting their eyes lock.

“We’ll always be with you. Little sister.”

The wind picked up. The fog rolled in. Zelda kept her eyes on Nayru’s, even as the world went white.

_No matter how long it takes,_ Zelda promised fervently in her heart as she began to lose consciousness. _Wait for me. I’ll come back to you._


	38. To Change the World

The world was chaos.

Pain engulfed him. Smothered him. Swallowed him. Surrounded him on all sides.

Shards of ice pierced his skin, freezing the blood in his veins. Flames raged all around him, hotter than the sun, searing his flesh straight off his bones. Acid melted him. Gravity crushed him. He was at the center of a hurricane of glass. There was no end, no beginning, no respite, nothing. Nothing but agony. Agony upon agony upon agony until the meaning of the word was lost to him. He was lost. He no longer existed. There was only pain.

His screaming had gone on for so long that he couldn’t hear himself anymore. Screams were normal. Screams just were. There had never been a time without screams. What was time? Whatever it was, it hurt. It had to hurt. Everything hurt. Everything was pain.

A sound touched his ears. Soft and low. This wasn’t screaming… how could it not be screaming? Everything was screaming. Everything was pain. This new sound… it was pain, too. But different. It was sadness. It was regret. It was a song, muted and slow. A song… Music. Music was… not… pain…?

Something inside of him shuddered. Tears were slipping down his cheeks. He had cheeks? The song continued, growing louder… no, not louder - nearer. Something was coming towards him, reaching out, calling to him. Something about this song was familiar… painful and sad, but honest as well. There was regret mixed into the notes. Regret- a powerful pain. A powerful sadness. A hand appeared before him. He reached out to grab it…

The hand was his own.

The storm stopped.

Link’s mind breached the surface of his own madness like he was shooting up from the bottom of a dark pool. His eyes snapped open, fresh air slapped his face, and he inhaled deeply through nostrils wet with sweat.

He was free.

He was down on all-fours, his body trembling with exhaustion, looming over something that looked like a mask lying face down on the ground below him. He couldn’t tell what it was supposed to look like from behind, but he didn’t care. He was a half-second away from keeling over. He hurt everywhere. His head was throbbing. His stomach churned.

From somewhere nearby, a familiar voice whispered his name.

“…Link?”

Link opened his mouth to answer, then turned his head and vomited. Not the easy kind of vomit either where everything comes up in one steady flow, but the agonizing retching you do when there’s no food in your stomach to throw up but your body insists on trying anyway. Doubled over on the ground, his forehead pressed against the cold, dusty floor, Link heaved and heaved, coughing up spittle and stomach acid for what felt like an eternity until his body decided to give over and let him breathe.

Link collapsed on his side, rolling over on his back, away from the mask and the pile of would-be vomit and saliva, and took in several deep, hungry gulps of air. His entire body felt hot and sticky. The ceiling above him danced in an unpleasantly nauseating fashion. Something heavy was strapped to his right arm, but he was too tired to remember what it was or to even care. He just wanted to lie there on the floor forever and never move again.

A head popped into view above him. Face half-hidden behind a cowl, Link still recognized the eyes of his best friend, Sheik Shadow. His face looked pale and his expression reflected genuine concern.

“Link… a-are you…?”

Swallowing thickly, Link managed to gasp out a pathetic, “I’m fine…”

A second face appeared on his other side. It was Midna. Her weird helmet was gone, so he could see both of her scarlet irises now. Her eyes were filled with tears. She was crying.

Link frowned.

“What… what’s going on?”

Sheik looked away. Midna bit her lip to stop it from trembling and hugged her good arm to her midriff. Neither one answered him.

The world was starting to come back into focus. He still felt sick, but not nearly as bad as he had only a few moments earlier. He thought he could hear shuffling footsteps somewhere nearby. Judging from the bit of the ceiling he could see from where he was lying, he was still in the Museum's atrium. And if all the gouges and holes were any indication, his battle with Ganon had been intense.

Everything was quiet now though. Did that mean… Was Ganon…?

Ignoring every muscle in his body that pleaded with him to stay still, Link screwed up his concentration and pushed himself up into a sitting position. Sheik made a sound that might have been him telling Link to stay still, but he wasn’t listening. His hands were covered in dried blood. He grimaced.

“Where’s Ganon?” he asked, his voice raspy and low. His throat felt raw. Had he been screaming? For some reason, his mind shied away from that thought as though he’d touched a hot stove.

“He’s dead, Link,” Sheik replied, also speaking quietly. “You… You got him.”

Well, that was a relief. And it explained the blood, too. Ganon’s, most likely. That was disgusting. He needed to wash that off, stat. And then take a shower. And then sleep for a year.

Something felt wrong, though. If he’d defeated Ganon, then… why was everything so quiet? And why did it feel like… like he’d lost something?

Shuffling footsteps met his ears, and he glanced up to find Groose and Marin stepping closer, the former supporting the latter’s weight. She was carrying a flute in her hands, her face covered in dried blood, but she didn’t seem to notice. Her entire frame was trembling. She was crying too. So was Groose for that matter, but he was trying not to show it. Were they all just relieved it was finally over?

Something clicked in Link’s head.

“Where’s my sword?”

The four teens standing around him visibly stiffened as if he struck them with a lash. Nobody answered.

The feeling of ‘wrongness’ intensified, coupled with something that felt like anxiety mixed with dread.

Swallowing, Link tried again.

“Guys… Where’s my sword?”

“Link…” Groose rasped, looking lost, and Midna let out a whimper as she buried her face in her hand, unable to meet his gaze while she broke down in tears.

There was no hiding it this time. They were definitely avoiding the question. Link was angry, but even more than that, he was afraid.

“Sheik-“

“Link, wait-“

“- _where is my sword?”_

Sheik finally met Link’s gaze again, and the sheer misery in his eyes was more intense than anything Link had seen since the day of the Ordon High Massacre. With tears slipping silently down his face, he turned and gestured wordlessly over Link’s shoulder.

With trepidation welling up in his heart, Link turned.

There, just a little ways away, over near the shattered remains of the Great Fairy fountain, the hilt of the Master Sword could be seen sticking crookedly up into the air from where its tip had been buried in the torso of a human body. A human body with long, blonde hair and vacant, half-lidded eyes that gazed without seeing in his direction.

The world stopped moving.

Link could only stare, transfixed in horror, as everything he knew and depended on in life came crashing down around him. Zelda… that was Zelda… lying on the ground… with his sword… His chest expanded, but no air entered his lungs. His heart tried to climb out of his throat.

A moment later he was scrambling across the ground on all-fours like a madman, pulling himself desperately towards her as some anguished sound that couldn’t have possibly been his voice tore itself from his throat and cried her name.

He practically knocked Ralph over. He didn’t see Colin, or Aryll, or Linebeck. The only thing his world consisted of in that moment was her, and how pale her skin was, how lifeless her eyes had become, the lips that would never again smile or say his name, the chest that no longer stirred with life. She was gone. She left him. He lost her. And it was his sword that had done it.

A moment later, he was at her side. Without thinking, he reached out and seized the Master Sword, yanking it out of her body, casting it aside like a treacherous snake. The sight of it imbedded in her flesh was more appalling than words could describe. That blade was meant to protect her, had been created to protect her! To keep her safe! Not to take her life! Not to grow slick with her blood! This was wrong! Everything was wrong!

He was crying, he realized. Sobbing. Howling. He’d pulled her torso into his arms and was rocking back and forth on the floor, making noises with his throat he hadn’t even realized humans could make. He thought he’d experienced pain in his life. He thought he knew what it meant to suffer. He was the Hero of Time. He’d done it all. He’d endured the worst of the worst. Nothing could break him.

He hadn’t known it was possible to be so wrong.

Her blood had pooled on the floor around them, soaking into his pants, dribbling from her wound onto his shirt, but he didn’t care. Her body felt so cold. People were gathering around him. He hardly noticed. Let them watch if they wanted, so long as they left them alone.

He tried to say her name, as if calling out to her could bring her back, but he couldn’t get the words past his lips. His fingers were tangled in her hair. He’d failed. She was his Princess, he was her Hero, and he’d failed her. The entire purpose of his existence revolved around her. Defend Hyrule. Keep Zelda safe. He’d managed to do one of those things. The lesser of the two, so far as he was concerned. He was a disgrace. His life had no meaning. And now…? What else was there for him? For a Hero without a Princess? The future was a cold, black void. He couldn’t breathe. He no longer wanted to breathe.

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, crying and cradling her lifeless body to his chest. Minutes. Hours. Years. Lifetimes. At some point, he looked up and found pretty much everyone gathered around them. Sheik and Midna, Groose and Marin, Colin, Ralph, Linebeck. Kafei was awake, sitting on the edge of the fountain, his body bloodied, his eyes hollow. Aryll was leaning against his shoulder. She was one of the few who met Link’s gaze, her expression sharing in his despair but understanding that he needed his space. The orphans were there, awkward and unsure, hiding by Marin’s blue bear.

He'd stopped crying at some point. Not because his pain was gone, but because he’d become completely numb. In a hollow, detached voice, he asked what had happened.

Silence. Then Sheik cleared his throat.

“Link, maybe now isn’t the best-“

Link wanted to scream, but he had no energy. He merely looked at his best friend, and Sheik stopped mid-sentence, letting out a frustrated sigh.

“You… I dunno. Ganon blew up part of the ceiling. There was dust everywhere. And then all of a sudden, you went crazy.”

“The mask…” Link muttered. “I put on a mask.”

Sheik nodded. "I guess that explains… well, you put it on and went nuts. Started attacking Ganon one-on-one, and you killed him. Cut his sword in two and everything. We all started cheering because we thought you'd done it, only…"

His voice faltered. Link gave him a sharp look to get him to keep going, but he seemed to be having trouble getting his emotions under control.

“You started attacking us, Link,” Aryll spoke up, her voice a whisper. “You hurt Groose and Linebeck. You almost killed Colin.”

Link was still too numb to feel anything, but his body had gone rigid. He turned to Colin and noticed for the first time the blood that stained his shirt and the massive gash across his chest where the fabric hung open. The younger boy winced, but said nothing, averting his gaze.

“We didn’t know what to do. You were screaming, and lashing out, and… You were baring down on Sheik when-“

“She was just there,” Sheik cut in, his voice thick, his shoulder’s quaking. “I don’t know where she came from. She was just… and then she was talking to you, and you were quiet like you were listening to her, and then…”

He didn’t need to say anything else. Link understood. Zelda had been distracting him to buy the others time, and Link had cut her down.

Sniffing, Link opened his mouth.

“How… How did you stop me?”

“It was Marin,” Groose supplied from somewhere behind Link. “She learned a special song earlier that she played to bring you back.”

“Special song?”

“The Song of Healing,” Marin said as if that were an explanation. Then she broke down. “Link, I’m s-so sorry…! I tried to hurry, but I was h-hurt and couldn’t get there fast enough… It’s all my fault that Z-Zelda’s…”

Link shook his head but didn't reply. It wasn't Marin's fault. It was his. Only his. He put that mask on, knowing that he hadn’t known the risks. No one else would take the blame from him. This was his responsibility.

Linebeck cleared his throat.

“I, uh… I hate to be the one to say this, but… We should probably get out of here. Some of you need to get to the hospital. There’s… Well, there’s no sense sitting around here any longer.”

He said the last bit in a rush, clearly trying not to provoke Link’s ire, but Link didn’t care. He was right. Colin, Kafei, Aryll, Marin, and Midna all needed medical attention. Din, he probably did too. They all probably did. And Zelda’s family would need to be informed… He couldn’t even finish the thought, it hurt so much.

Link nodded, signaling his approval of Linebeck’s declaration, and began removing his shield, tossing it aside without a second thought, repositioning his arms so he could lift Zelda’s body into the air.

Groose stumbled forward.

“Hey, Hero, let me help-“

“No!”

He hadn’t meant to shout, but it was too late to call it back. Groose jerked back like Link had swung his sword at him. Link bit his cheeks and tried to force himself to calm down.

“Sorry. I meant… just, let me do it. I can… She doesn’t weigh much.”

Marin touched Groose’s arm and shook her head.

“Yeah… Alright, man. You got this.”

Honestly, Link was so exhausted, he didn’t know that he could carry her on his own. It didn’t matter. No one else was going to touch her. He was going to hold on to her for as long as he could. Until he had to let her go.

He slid his hand under her arms, and another under her knees, braced himself to stand, and hesitated.

Her purse was hanging limp from her shoulder. It was going to fall off if he tried to walk with it. How on earth had she kept ahold of it this whole time? Girls and their purses… the thought was discordant, almost normal. Well, she… didn’t need it anymore. No sense in lugging it around.

Propping her up against his chest, Link tugged the purse off her arm and tossed it to the side as well. It hit the ground with the tinkling sound of shattering glass.

Thinking of perfume bottles and how nice Zelda normally smelled, he slipped his arms around her once again, preparing himself to lift, and stopped. Everyone around him was moving, corralling the kids, collecting discarded weapons and discussing in hushed tones what to do with them. No one was paying attention to him and Zelda anymore. No one else noticed the scent that was now drifting out of Zelda’s purse.

Link did notice, however, and as soon as the smell hit his olfactory senses he immediately began coughing. What… what _was_ that?! That wasn’t perfume! It smelled like… It smelled like alcohol. Like, really, really potent alcohol. And urine. What in the Goddesses’ name did Zelda have in her purse?!

He didn’t know what possessed him to open it up. Honestly, random smells from Zelda’s bag were so unbelievably irrelevant in the face of what he carried in his arms, it shouldn’t have even registered in Link’s mind. But maybe the curiosity was just an excuse to distract himself from the horror that had become his reality since waking up. Whatever the reason, Link reached out, pulled the bag open, and stared in disbelief as a tiny, glowing pink orb of light floated drunkenly up out of Zelda’s purse.

It took him a moment to realize he’d seen something like this before. When he’d spoken to Farore while he’d been in a coma. Little orbs of light had been dancing all around them in the Sacred Grove. It was a fairy.

This fairy didn’t look quite as playful as the others had been. It fluttered in languid circles, looking like it wasn’t quite sure where it was or what was going on. The scent of alcohol was still thick in the air. Was it… drunk? Where had it come from? Why did Zelda have a drunken fairy in her purse?!

Reaching forward, Link tugged the handbag fully open and found the shattered remains of a filthy brown bottle inside. Dribbles of some dirty liquid had splattered all over the contents of her purse. What…? Did Zelda have some secret drinking problem that he knew nothing about?

Before he could do or say anything else, the fairy seemed to perk up. As though sensing something nearby, it bopped up and down in an animated fashion for a moment before zooming forward and crashing headfirst into Link’s knee. It stumbled back, spun aimlessly, then bumped into the purse. The poor thing was totally wasted. Its light dimmed for a moment, and Link could see that at its center was a tiny humanoid shape with dragonfly-like wings. It shook its head, trying to steel itself, then slowly turned around so it was facing Link again.

It shot forward, and this time it didn’t lose its course. Lifting higher into the air, it circled Link and Zelda’s bodies several times, showering them in a cascade of pink sparkles that vanished like snowflakes the moment they touched their flesh, flying higher and higher until, in a tiny burst of light like a New Year’s firework, it vanished.

Link stared. That… was the weirdest thing he'd ever seen. Clearly, his mind had finally snapped under all the emotional strain he’d been under that day. He couldn’t take any more of this. He needed to lay down.

Shoving his arms back under Zelda’s body, he braced himself to stand, took one last look at her peaceful face, and froze.

Her eyes were open. She was staring right at him.

Link’s mouth went dry. His heart was hammering explosively in his chest. Everything around him was spinning. This… This wasn’t… She couldn’t be…

Zelda licked her lips and frowned.

“Link? Why are you… staring at me? Like a creep?”

His chest had constricted. He couldn’t breathe.

“Link?” Her brows knitted in concern, but a moment later she was wrinkling her nose in disgust. “Oh sweet Farore, what is that smell?”

Link’s mouth worked, but no sound came out. She was moving. And talking. Was this real? Was this part of his fairy hallucination? Had his mind broken that much, or… was whatever liquid Zelda was carrying in that bottle of hers some sort of scent-activated LSD? No, Link, wake up, don’t do this to yourself. Zelda’s dead. You killed her. She’s gone forever. She’s never coming back!

The living Zelda hallucination pushed herself upright, leaning her weight on one hand against Link’s leg while her eyes scanned the area, taking in the blood and the bustle of their friends preparing to leave, all of whom were apparently averting their eyes from the grieving Link for privacy’s sake. He wished they were looking. He needed someone else to tell him what was going on. He couldn’t trust his eyes anymore.

Zelda’s gaze landed on her purse and she leaned forward, examining its contents.

“Tingle…” she declared in a breathless whisper.

Tingle? The smelly homeless man? Alright, well if Link was looking for confirmation that he’d gone insane, here it was.

Somebody let out an ear-splitting shriek. Aryll had apparently decided to shoot Link a brief glance to make sure he hadn’t broken down again and had finally noticed that Zelda was sitting up all on her own. Her reaction felt pretty normal, all things considered, meaning it was the only normal thing happening at the moment.

Zelda had jumped in shock at the sound of Aryll’s scream, almost knocking her and Link over, and was now fidgeting uncomfortably as everyone around them gawked at her.

“Uh…” she started awkwardly, her cheeks glowing pink as she offered up a stiff wave. "Hey, guys… What's up?"

She was met with silence. Everyone was staring. She stared back, clearly at a loss. Link’s heart was beating faster. If they could see her too… were they part of his hallucination as well? Or… Or…

Unable to restrain himself any longer, he decided he had to test it out. Lifting a trembling hand, he reached out and poked her cheek.

She blinked in surprise and swatted his hand away.

“What? Link, cut it out.”

He poked her again, and she smacking him across the chest.

“Touch my face again, Hero, and I’ll break your finger. You know I don’t like it when people touch my-“

Link seized her face in both hands and pulled her forward, cutting her off mid-sentence with a clumsy, passionate kiss.

She let out a muffled squawk of surprise and discomfort, beating her hands against his torso until he relented and let her go. He was breathing heavily, his eyes burning. She felt so warm…

Zelda, for her part, was scowling, wiping at her lips with the dirty, blood-stained sleeves of her shirt, a disgusted expression on her face.

“Ugh, Link, what the heck… You’re all sweaty and gross-“

“You’re alive!”

The words left his lips in a breathless whisper, tinted with wonder and disbelief.

She stared, her eyes slowly softening in understanding.

“Oh… that’s right. I was… I forgot. Sorry.” She winced, looking down at her lap. Almost absent-mindedly, she extended her hand, tangling her fingers in the front of Link’s shirt. “Yeah… I’m alive, Link. I’m back.”

She glanced back up at him to gauge his reaction, and there was something playful dancing in her eyes.

“Also, the Goddesses say hi.”

Something like a breathless chuckle and a sob left his throat, and he leaned forward, eager to pull her into another kiss when she fended him off, pressing her hands flat against his chest, pushing him away with a wrinkled expression of disgust on her face.

“Ew. No. Not right now. We’re all sweaty and gross and covered in blood and-“

“I don’t even care,” Link said, laughing, pushing her arms away with surprisingly little resistance. “This is what you get for jerking me around!”

Before he could actually pull her in and kiss her for real, however, they were interrupted by a familiar, angry shout.

“ _Wait just a minute_!”

The two blondes turned and stared wide-eyed like they’d been caught fooling around by Link’s grandmother. It wasn’t her, of course, but it was someone just as short and almost as terrifying.

Midna stomped forward out of the flock of their silently staring friends. Her good arm was on her hip, her fiery eyes blazing, her lips quirked back something that was either a grimace or a snarl or else the twisted love child of the two. She was literally seething. After all he’d been through, he’d never been so terrified.

Without warning, she darted forward and began kicking Zelda repeatedly in the leg.

“Ow! _Ow_ \- hey! What?! Mid, _cut it out_!” Zelda cried, trying to crawl on top of Link to avoid their shorter friend’s rage, but Midna was shouting too loudly to hear Zelda’s desperate pleas.

“You friggin’ jerk! Screw you, Zelda Nohansen! Screw! You! You can’t just die twice in one day and then come back like it’s nothing and expect people to put up with it! It gets less dramatic every time it happens, y’know?! The next time you die, I’m gonna make sure we bury you right away so that when you come back like the frickin’ zombie you are, you’ll asphyxiate in your coffin and die all over again! And then come back and die again! And again! And again! Do you hear me, Princess?! Do you?!”

Despite the actual anger and trauma in Midna's voice and the fact that she was physically assaulting his only recently resurrected girlfriend, Link couldn't help the stupid smile that split across his face. He couldn’t hide it, even when Midna missed and kicked him instead. They were alive. All of them. Impossibly, in some cases, but still.

Midna’s angry voice was getting close to breaking, so she cut off her wild kicking assault and whirled around, pointing an accusing finger at her boyfriend, trying to divert attention away from her and toward someone else.

“Tell her, Sheik! Sage of Shadow! Tell her you can’t just come back from the dead willy-nilly! It’s unnatural and weird!”

Sheik stared at the three of them for a moment, lost for words. Then he cracked. A snort tore itself out of his nose. A moment later he was doubled over, shoulders quaking, face hidden behind a hand as he either laughed or cried or did some bizarre amalgamation of the two.

Midna looked momentarily stymied, staring at her boyfriend in both commiseration and disappointment that he hadn’t jumped in and taken her side.

Zelda watched Sheik break down for a moment, expression both sad and affectionate, then turned to Link, offering him a resigned smile. He jerked his head, accepting, and she lifted his hand to her mouth as though to kiss it before seeing all the dried blood caked onto his arms and dropping offending appendage with a grimace. Pushing herself to her feet, she walked past a glowering Midna and approached Sheik, tugging his hand away from his face and pulling him into a hug.

“Thanks for all the help, Sheik,” she murmured.

“Shut up,” he replied thickly. “I hate you. Zombie.”

She laughed.

Her laughter broke the floodgates. A moment later, everyone was hurrying forward, pulling Zelda into hugs, laughing, crying, celebrating the fact that they were all alive.

Throughout all of it, Midna stayed back, angrily shouting over the sounds of celebration, “No! Stop it! We already did this! This already happened! Don’t encourage her or she’ll just do it again!”

Nobody listened.

While Zelda enjoyed her momentary spotlight as the center of attention, exchanging hugs with Kafei, shaking Ralph’s hand to avoid his cut, spinning Navi around in the air, Link remained where he was seated on the ground. Sure, he could be jealous that the girlfriend he thought he’d killed, who’d just barely come back to life and who he hadn’t gotten any time alone with, had just been stolen away by his friends, but at the moment he found he didn’t mind. He’d have time with her later. Time alone, without prying eyes. Time after they’d been cleaned up, so she’d have no excuse to push him away. Lots of time. A whole lifetime. And endless lifetimes after that. He could wait a few more minutes.

A figure broke free of the crowd. Small, completely disheveled just like the rest of them, her arms held stiff and uncomfortable at her sides, her fists clenched so tightly her knuckles were white. Her bright almost-hazel eyes met Link’s, and if anything, her trademark scowl grew even more pronounced. In spite of that, she slowly made her way over to him, looking torn between imperious disdain and disgust at the prospect of having to talk to him.

“Hey,” she muttered sullenly, averting her gaze.

“Hey yourself,” Link parroted, hiding the affectionate smile that tried to worm its way across his face. “You ok?”

“Of course I am!” she snapped, heated, then clenched her jaw shut and silently seethed as she tried to get ahold of herself. Link waited her out. He was used to this by now.

“I… I just…” She licked her lips and swallowed, looking anywhere but at him. “I wanted… to…”

“It’s ok, Tatl,” Link cut in gently, and Tatl started, finally lifting her eyes to meet his. Without the perpetual anger in them, he almost didn’t recognize her. She looked confused. And afraid.

Link sighed. "Listen… I'm sorry. I was supposed to keep you safe, but instead, I let you get captured. I fought my way here to save you, but I failed in that, too. At the end of the day, I… I couldn’t protect you from anything. I let you down.”

Tatl looked horrified. “I… what?! No! You…! I mean, I… I can take care of myself, I don’t need you to…!”

“I know,” Link chuckled, sitting upright. “You can take care of yourself. You’re tough, and you’re a good big sister. You’re gonna be ok.”

Tatl had averted her eyes again, staring resolutely at the ground, her shoulders trembling.

“I know I am… but…”

“Y’know, you had me really scared there for a while,” Link supplied, trying to sound light-hearted and ease some of the tension on her face. “When you vanished, I thought I wasn’t ever going to see you again. Though you probably would have liked that, huh?”

He meant it as a joke since she was always going off about how annoying he was. He hadn't expected to see the sudden heartbreak in her eyes or the way her sullen pout devolved into a full-out frown.

“N-no…” she croaked, her voice cracking. Link stared in surprise, caught off-guard by her confession, and could only watch as her mouth worked soundlessly, desperately searching for the words she wanted to say. Giving up, she flung herself violently in his direction.

"Whoa!" Link cried out, nearly toppling over backward. "What's wrong? Tatl?"

“You’re going to leave!” she practically wailed, her face buried in his shoulder. “You are! Everyone always leaves! I don’t want to be alone anymore!”

Link sighed, his heart melting, wrapping his arms protectively around her trembling torso, drawing her in closer.

“Yeah. I’m gonna leave,” he whispered, trying to let the words gently. “I have to. I live all the way down in Ordon. And you, you live up here, in Castleton. That’s just the way it is.”

Tatl broke down all the way, her response lost amidst her unintelligible sobs.

He was at a loss for what to tell her. His protective big brother instinct hadn't worn off, even now after everything was over, and he had the sinking suspicion that it never would. What he wanted more than anything at that moment was to take away her pain. To tell her she and her brother would never have to return to that orphanage, but that he and Granny and Aryll would take them in like they'd taken in Sheik, and they'd all be one big, weird, dysfunctional family. Only… he couldn't.

As nice as it would be, he had no right to make a promise like that. Granny was too old to be taking on two more little kids. There wasn’t room for them in the house regardless. And Granny definitely didn’t have the finances to feed and house two more growing, hungry mouths. He wanted to be her big brother more than anything, but… That’s just not how things were going to work out this time. Not everything resolved itself the way he wished it would. And he was done making her promises if the possibility even existed that he might not be able to keep it. Not when it was something this important.

“But you know what,” Link continued in a soft whisper, “that doesn’t mean we won’t ever see each other again. And that doesn’t mean we can’t keep in contact. Maybe I’ll come up and see you sometimes. And maybe I can talk to Charlo and see if he can’t let you call me every so often, or maybe Skype me on a computer or something, to help you with your homework or… like, if you just want to tell me I’m stupid. I could even send you boring, old-fashioned letters. This doesn’t have to be goodbye unless you want it to be.”

The conversation stopped for a little while as Tatl struggled to stem her seemingly unending flow of tears, completely drenching Link’s shirt. He didn’t mind. Finally, after a long silence, she managed a shaky response.

“Your girlfriend’s right,” she mumbled softly.

“About what?” he asked, his curiosity suddenly peaked.

Her arms tightened possessively around Link’s neck. “You are really gross right now.”

Link chuckled.

Across from him, Zelda’s circle of fans hadn’t decided to free her yet. Aryll’s voice carried out of the din to Link’s ears.

“Hold on, explain this to me. How are you alive?”

Zelda’s light-hearted response danced its way over to him. “Oh, you know, the old-fashioned way. I had a fairy in a bottle.”

“Is that code for something?”

“That’s enslavement, Zel. I’m reporting you.”

“Look, if you don’t want to tell us then fine, but don’t make junk up-“

“No really! I had a fairy in a bottle, ask Link! He saw it come out! Way back, when me and Colin… and Kafei, I guess… when we first came into the museum, we got help from this smelly old homeless man named Tingle. He gave me this bottle as a gift and I just kinda stuck it in my purse and then forgot all about it. It’s a good thing I held onto it- Tingle wound up saving my life.”

“Good ol’ Tingle,” Kafei sighed theatrically. “Our unsung hero. I thought I recognized that pungent stench of his.”

Colin let out a bark of laughter.

Tatl suddenly drew back. Half expecting her to punch him and pretend like their touching little moment had never happened, Link was surprised to see her eyes wide with apprehension, staring at something over Link’s shoulder. Wordlessly, she grabbed his face and turned his head so he would look.

Someone was standing apart from the group a little ways away, looking down at the ground. Slowly, the figure bent over, plucking something up from off the floor, turning it over in his hands.

It was the mask that had driven Link insane.

Link was up and moving in a heartbeat, holding out his hand, letting out a panicked, “Wait, don’t touch that!”

The man turned towards Link and smiled. He would have recognized that wide, toothy grin anywhere.

It was Mr. Happy.

Link came to a stop, feeling uneasy.

“Don’t?” Happy asked, tilting his head to the side. “Why ever not?”

Link’s gaped, fishing around for something to say.

“Uh… It’s… It’s dangerous.”

“Hmm…” Mr. Happy mused, studying the mask curiously, tilting it from side to side. “Yes, that is certainly true. An object of great power. A being of terrible wrath. But then, I knew this already, as I am the one who lent it to you.”

In spite of the situation, Link felt his face flush. Oh, duh… He’d forgotten. He’d seen Happy up in his office during the fight and had finally given in and asked him for help, which resulted in the mask tumbling out of the hole Ganon had blasted in the ceiling…

Wait a minute…

“Hey!” Link suddenly exploded, pointing an accusing finger in Happy’s direction, “All of this is your fault!”

Behind him, Link could hear the murmur of hushed voices and the sound of approaching footsteps. The others must have noticed Happy’s appearance and were moving to join them. He almost turned around to tell them to stay back; this psychopath wasn’t to be trusted.

“All of what, Hero?” Happy asked, his voice perfectly calm. “The fact that your world is now saved? That your friends are all alive? That Ganondorf has once again been thwarted, and Demise has been utterly destroyed, his curse finally lifted from off the world, never to threaten Hyrule again? Well, I'm flattered, but certainly, the credit for all of that cannot be laid _entirely_ at my feet. You all performed admirably as well. We’re all quite impressed.”

Link was gaping like an idiot, he knew, but he was finding it hard to close his mouth.

The others were gathering around him now, shuffling forward and staring awkwardly like… well, like students in a museum.  

For the most part, his friends just looked tense and confused- as far as they were concerned, the Museum Curator had just appeared in the center of the atrium out of thin air. Linebeck looked a half-second away from swallowing his tongue, probably because this man was also his boss. Midna and Groose, however, looked openly shocked.

“Yo, Happy!” Groose shouted, far louder than he needed to as per usual, “What’re you doin’ here, man?! I thought we left you in Clock Town peddlin’ your wares!”

Midna punched his arm in a not-so-surreptitious manner. “Idiot! He’s the museum curator!”

“Oh yeah…” Groose mumbled, rubbing his arm. His brow furrowed. “Wait, so he’s not the guy we saw?”

Midna buried her face in her hand with a groan. “Seriously, how do you not remember this?”

“Actually, young Groose, the mask vendor you met and I are one and the same,” Happy supplied jovially, turning to face the crowd fully, offering the taller Gerudo boy a stiff bow. “I visited you in your trial to provide you with assistance at the behest of my masters, just as I did with the rest of you.”

His announcement was met with surprised silence, followed by an explosion of questions.

“Wait, Mr. Happy was in on all of this?”

“I didn’t see you at all today.”

“Am I totally fired?” That last one was from Linebeck.

Zelda stepped forward beside Link, placing a comforting hand on his arm. Mr. Happy offered her a deep bow, ignoring the others as their questions tapered off into silence once more.

“Your Grace,” Happy intoned solemnly, “it is an honor.”

“I’m not Hylia anymore, Mr. Happy,” Zelda reproved, not unkindly.

He nodded in acquiescence, still grinning. “Your Highness then, if you’d prefer. Still, you will always be Hylia to me.”

It was Zelda’s turn to smile.

“If you don’t mind me asking, who or… what… are you?”

She winced, realizing a half-second after she'd spoken that her question might have been a little rude, but Happy didn't seem offended in the slightest.

“A spirit, Highness. A servant of the Goddesses, much like you and your Hero. I was sent here at their behest to help guide their warriors on their quests, such as spirits often do.”

Link cleared his throat gruffly, deciding to step in and return this crazy conversation to what was important.

“Alright look- Happy, or whoever you are. What are you gonna do with that mask?”

“What would you like for me to do with him, Hero?”

Link blinked, not expecting the question to be turned around on him so quickly.

“Uh… I dunno. Destroy it I guess? Maybe lock it away? That thing is dangerous, it drove me insane- it made me kill Zelda!”

His throat tightened as he said that last part. Even though she was (miraculously) alive again, it wasn’t exactly something he wanted to talk about just yet. Zelda gave his arm a comforting squeeze.

Mr. Happy burst out laughing rather unexpectedly. “Oh ho ho! No, Hero. Quite the opposite, in fact. He is not the one who drove you to madness; rather, it was you who adversely affected him.”

Link stared.

“Do what now?”

“Ok, hold up,” Sheik cut in, looking annoyed. “Can you all stop saying ‘he’ like the rest of us are supposed to know who you’re talking about? He who?”

“Him,” Happy replied succinctly, holding up the mask Link had worn so the others could see it clearly. “This is the ‘he’ to which we are referring. A god, though one with whom you will not be familiar. He was never worshipped and doesn't quite fit in with the other gods and goddesses of old. He's wild, a vagabond, a drifter, a seeker of battles and glory. He holds allegiance to none but himself."

“Okaaaay,” Sheik said slowly, dragging the word out to show his annoyance. “And his name is…?”

“He hasn’t got one,” Happy replied, shrugging. “Or rather… well, if he ever had one, it isn't known by a lowly spirit like me. In the olden days, when legends of him still existed, he was called the 'Fierce Deity'. A warrior god who fought an endless battle with demonkind, allegedly all in some desperate ploy to win the favor of a certain Goddess. He crossed paths with the Hero once in past life; it is said that their duel with the demon known as Majora was truly a sight to behold.”

Link’s head was spinning. Some god called the Fierce Deity had teamed up with him in a past life to take down Majora? And both of them had happened to come back simultaneously over the span of the last couple days? Or… had the Fierce Deity come because of Majora and Demise’s presence? Was he drawn here because he wanted to fight Demons?

 “Is that why you gave Link his mask?” Zelda asked, voicing Link’s thoughts aloud. “Because of his and Link’s past connection?”

“Yes and no,” Happy answered. “That is part of it, but it was mostly because he wanted to fight. Though I doubt he’d have been so eager to let any mortal other than the Hero wield his power in such a direct manner.”

“What does that mean?”

“When one wears the mask, a relationship is formed between wearer and god. Not unlike the one developed between Majora and the one who wears her, although in this case, the two become one rather than one controlling the other. What was meant to happen was Link and the Fierce Deity combining into one entity, sharing their strength and their mind, if but for a moment."

“But then why did I wind up going insane?” Link asked, feeling irritated that none of this was answering his questions.

Zelda let out a sudden, startled gasp.

“The Triforce!”

“Indeed, Your Highness.”

“I’m still confused,” Link supplied blandly.

“Join the club,” Midna chimed in from off to the side.

“When Hylia gave up her godhood to become a mortal,” Zelda explained hastily, “she did so because gods cannot wield the Triforce. Din, Nayru, and Farore explicitly made it this way in order to preserve mortal independence. Gods aren’t supposed to use it. When the Fierce Deity tried to merge with you when you put on the mask…”

“…the Triforce of Courage which you bear on your hand tried to reject him,” Happy finished wistfully. “The result was an incomplete fusion. Your mind was shattered. The only thing that held on was the battle instinct that the two of you shared. That is the reason why you attacked the ones you love. That is also the reason behind me being here right now.”

He waved the mask again.

“The Fierce Deity contacted me directly, something that rarely happens; he likes to keep himself separated from the others. But he felt he must ask that someone return his mask to him. He… Well, I think he’s ashamed of what happened. If he hadn’t been so eager to jump in and slay the demon himself, he might have taken greater care with Link’s Triforce bearer status. It’s quite unlike him to feel embarrassed. What a strange day this has been for me.”

A strange day for _him_. Link almost laughed.

“I still want to know what he meant by him showing up to help the rest of us,” Sheik spoke up from the side. “I never saw you at all today.”

“Not everyone required the same amount of assistance,” Happy replied with another small bow. “You already had a spirit guiding you. I was not needed. However, if you cast your mind back to when you first entered the well… and a friendly skeleton who pointed the way…”

Sheik looked utterly floored.

“I did visit most of the others, however,” Happy continued, letting his squinty-eyed gaze sweep the group, “although I did so in different forms. As a spirit and a messenger for the gods, I am able to change my appearance at will to better fit the scenario. Though I admit, I tend to stick with owls. I am rather fond of them.”

Link could practically see the gears working in his friends’ heads as they racked their brains. Slowly, eyes began to widen.

“There was an owl in a tree when I was lost in the woods…” Aryll whispered softly, looking amazed. “I threw some sticks at it, and then bats chased me all the way to Ralph…”

“An owl carving on a wall, over the weapons I used to escape…” Colin muttered, running a distracted hand through his hair.

Marin let out a theatrical gasp. “Oh my gods! When Groose and I were flying around lost, his giant bird started chasing after an owl and it brought us to the temple where everyone else was captured!”

“I never saw an owl,” Kafei muttered petulantly, clearly feeling left out.

“In your case, I was actually a child in a wedding mask,” Happy said with a shrug. “I like to mix things up sometimes.”

The others had all devolved into pockets of mini-conversations, explaining to one another all their varied experiences in which Mr. Happy might have maybe appeared in their adventures to give them aid. Almost no one was paying attention to Link or Zelda anymore. Happy offered them one final bow.

“If that is all, Your Highness, Hero, then I must be off.”

“Wait!” Link blurted out hastily.

“Yes?”

“What do you mean, you must be off?! What are we supposed to do now?”

Happy tilted his head to the side, looking confused.

“You wish for me to plan out the rest of your lives from this moment forward?”

“No, it’s just…” he gestured to the front doors, shattered but still standing. “There’s a line of police officers outside. A magical barrier was holding them back. I dunno if it’s still there or not, but… The world knows that magic exists again, or at the very least they will soon. And I’m still wanted for theft and breaking out of the police station. Are we just supposed to… walk out the front doors and hope for the best?”

“Well, that is one option,” Happy replied, shrugging lightly. “Honestly, Hero, I don’t have an answer for you. That magic is returning is a fact that cannot be undone… Unless, of course, you were to wish for it to be. But I would never dream of trying to influence the decision of one who would wish upon the Triforce.”

“Do what now?” Link asked again.

Happy gestured for them to follow, and after exchanging baffled looks, they did. Not too far away, near the ruins of the staircase, a small, golden triangle hovered by the wall. A gentle golden light threw the damages Link, Zelda, and Ganon had caused into sharp relief.

Link and Zelda stared. It was the Triforce of Power. It must have been left behind when Link and the Fierce Deity had killed Ganon, but with Link going nuts and Zelda dying, no one had spared it any thought.

The back of Link’s left hand was vibrating, his Triforce insignia glowing brilliantly in response to being so close to another piece. He could see Zelda’s mark doing the same.

“Here, you see?” Happy informed them, pointing to the Triforce of Power like it was just any ordinary trinket. “Now that Ganon is gone, his claim over the Triforce of Power is gone as well. It will linger here for a time, but if it is not claimed soon, it will move on to whoever most embodies Din’s virtues. Probably not for the best, assuming you want to avoid any more catastrophes like today in this lifetime.”

He sounded smug, but Link didn’t pay him any mind. Without Ganondorf, the Triforce of Power essentially belonged to Link and Zelda now. That meant, together, they possessed the entire Triforce. They could make a wish. They could do anything they wanted.

Zelda was clearly having identical thoughts. Turning her head slowly, she met Link’s wondering gaze and smiled. He grinned back at her. This was it. Their chance to change the world.

Zelda raised her right hand. Link did the same with his left. In a burst of golden light, their respective Triforce pieces left their bodies, manifesting their physical forms, merging together with the Triforce of Power to form the complete Triforce. The light that shined from its complete form was vastly more powerful than when there’d been just one of them. It stabbed at Link’s eyes, it was so bright, but he couldn’t look away.

He didn’t know if the others had noticed or not. They probably had, but he found he didn’t really care. All that existed in this moment was him, Zelda, and the Triforce…

And Mr. Happy.

“Remember,” he warned gently from the side, “the person who is to make the wish must be sure that their heart is in balance, else the Triforce will merely split up again. One last thing- the mortals outside will not be kept out for much longer. You must make your wish quickly, and then hide the Triforce until such a time that the Sages can seal it back within the Sacred Realm. Otherwise, your precious Hyrule will likely descend into chaos and war once more.”

Link blinked in surprise, not realizing what was at stake. If anyone outside saw this, be it a cop or an EMT or, Goddesses forbid, one of the reporters, the chaos might destroy the world. After all, people might not believe in magic, but seeing is believing, and everyone knew what the Triforce was. Zelda was nodding impatiently as if she’d already considered all of this and already had a plan in store to deal with it. Goddesses, she was amazing…

Now, what were they going to wish for?

“Something to help the world deal with what is to come, right?” Zelda asked, once again seeming to read Link’s mind. “Something to ease the transition. Something to help us all get through the coming years.”

“Right,” Link agreed, suddenly feeling overwhelmed. “Or… wait, is that right? Should we do this? What if we just wish magic away again? Then nothing has to change.”

Zelda shook her head. “Change will come one way or another. Life is about change. The best we could do is postpone its return, but… Do we want to? The world as it is now, this isn’t what it’s supposed to be. This isn’t what the Goddesses had in mind. The transition will be rough, but it’s necessary. So much has gone wrong… we have the chance to make it right again, here and now.”

Link sighed, running a hand through his hair. Geez, he really was sweaty… he owed Zelda and Tatl an apology.

“Well… Ok then, so how about we just fix the immediate problem? Y’know, with me being arrested and the police outside and everything? Let’s just… wish that none of this ever happened.”

He’d extended his hand to demonstrate, not really meaning to touch the Triforce, but Zelda just about leaped out of her skin in her efforts to pull his hand back.

“Link, no! Are you crazy?! That would bring Ghirahim and Demise and Majora and Ganondorf all back! All of the good we accomplished would be for nothing! We’d probably end up repeating all of this! Geez, think before you act!”

“Sorry, sorry!” he said, retracting his hand stepping back. “It was just a suggestion! Geez!”

She looked slightly mollified, but her eyes were fixated anxiously on the Triforce. This was a tough one. Everything that had happened here at the museum had been awful, but… in the end, it was good. The only problem was, with magic coming back, countless legendary artifacts in their possessions like the Triforce and the Master Sword, a gaggle of kidnapped orphans and one runaway convict, things weren’t looking good for when the police and first responders finally made it into the building. And if the government got their hands on the Triforce before they could hide it...

Zelda let out a weary sigh.

“Y’know… If the Triforce is really meant to represent the Golden Trio, then it’s fair to say that they’re the ones who grant the wish, right?”

Link shrugged, not seeing where she was going with this.

“So then… if they’re the ones who grant the wish, then they’re the ones who decide how your wish is granted. Right? I mean, we can’t be too specific because we might end up forgetting some little detail or screwing something else up entirely. We only get one shot, so we need to make sure we cover all our bases. On the other hand, being vague sounds completely illogical, but… I mean… The Goddesses know what they’re doing. They know how to twist this scenario to the best possible outcome.”

“Sure, I… guess.”

She sighed again, then turned to face him.

“Link, I have no idea how to fix this.”

He laughed. “Y’know what? I don’t either.”

“I don’t think either of us are smart enough to come up with the perfect solution.”

“Well, if you’re not, then there’s no way I am.”

“But I know three ladies who are. I think we should trust them, Link. Put our faith in them and let them take the reins for a moment. I mean, I know it’s counter-intuitive- the whole point of the Triforce is so that mortals can control their own destinies… but maybe that’s counter-intuitive too. Maybe the point of life is to learn you can’t do it all alone. Or maybe it’s knowing that, in the end, you don’t know anything at all.”

“You’ve totally lost me, Zel.”

She snorted, digging the heels of her palms into her eyes.

“I lost myself, too. I don’t even know what I’m saying anymore. I think I’m just trying to convince myself that this is a good idea.”

Link reached out and wound his arm around her shoulder, bringing her in for a brief hug.

“Hey. Whatever happens next, we’ll face it together, alright? Just like we always do.”

She sent him a tremulous smile.

“Thanks, Link… Do you… mind if I…?”

“Go ahead,” he laughed, stepping back and ushering her forward. “This is all you.”

Zelda stepped closer to the Triforce. The Golden Light shone in her eyes. To the side, a respectful distance behind, their friends stood huddled, watching them in awe. Mr. Happy met Link's gaze, nodded one last time, and then vanished.

Zelda extended her hand. Her fingers splayed against the bottom-left triangle. The symbol reappeared on the back of her hand, only this time all three triangles were filled in. A gasp left her body. The light became blinding.

For the span of a heartbeat, the world came undone.

When Link opened his eyes, the Triforce was gone, but the mark on the back of Zelda’s hand remained.

She turned her head and met Link’s wondering gaze with a smile. Everything around them was still destroyed.  Nothing felt any different.

With a resounding crash, the front doors exploded inwards.


	39. Epilogue

**Three Months Later**

“Liiiiiiink!”

Link let out a groan, rolling onto his stomach and burying his face beneath the velvety softness of his comforter. He recognized his little sister’s squawking anywhere. Why did she always feel the need to ruin his peaceful snoozing? Hopefully, she’d think he was asleep and leave her alone.

Right. Because that had stopped her before.

With a resounding crash, Aryll kicked the door in.

“Link!” she snapped, sounding distinctly harassed. “Get up! Someone wants to talk to you!”

He considered playing possum but cast the thought aside almost immediately. Knowing Aryll, she’d probably throw herself on top of him in order to wake him up, and he really didn’t feel like fracturing his spine or rupturing his spleen so early in the morning.

Instead, Link rolled back over, tugging down the edge of his blanket and blinking owlishly at his little sister. His peaceful, sleepy morning had officially been ruined. What good was summer if no one was willing to let you relax?

“What kind of sick monster wakes a man up at the crack of dawn to talk?” he mumbled, trying to sound cross and instead coming across as petulant. Well, whatever; he had the right to whine.

“Who do you think?” she retorted, chucking something sleek and flat towards him where it plopped on his mattress with a heavy thud. “And it’s not dawn, it’s almost eleven. If you don’t get up soon, we’re going to be late.”

And on that sanctimonious note, Link’s little sister turned to stalk off down the hallway, but Link’s attention had already focused in on the object she’d chucked onto his bed. He recognized it; it was her tablet. Well, technically it was the ‘family tablet’, but only Aryll ever used it. Granny claimed newfangled touchscreen technology wasn’t designed for knobbly old lady hands like hers, and Link just preferred old-fashioned physical keyboards over the alternative.

Link groaned, forcing himself upright only long enough to snatch up the discarded tablet from the edge of his bed before flopping back into his pillows, making sure to pull his most exhausted face so that his caller understood exactly what kind of inconvenience this was for him. Not that they would care. He didn’t even have to bother wondering who it was, either; of all the people who were known to disrupt Link’s sleepy time without qualm (and the list was a lot longer than he’d like it to be), only one of them chose to do so via video chat.

As soon as his face registered on the screen, his caller let out a derisive snort and muttered, “Wow. Someone needs some more beauty sleep.”

“Shut up,” he mumbled, rubbing at his eye with the hand not holding the tablet in front of his face. “What do you want, Tatl? Do you have any idea what time it is?”

“No?” she replied, and Link noted the distinct lack of apology in her tone. She looked the same as she always did; blonde hair back in a ponytail, a few loose bangs dangling in front of her wide brown eyes, set beneath the suggestion of a scowl. She always tried to keep up her angry look for their video chats and always failed. “Aren’t you in a different time zone?”

“No. We’re in the same time zone.”

“Oh. Wait, that means it’s like eleven! Why are you still asleep?!”

“Because I’m a free man! And free men get to sleep in over the summer!”

She sniggered. “More like you’re a fat man. I didn’t know the Hero of Time was allowed to be so lazy.”

As she said this, a figure passed by behind her and he tensed subconsciously; sure, it’s not like some random stranger overhearing their conversation would actually believe that Link was the Hero of Time, but that didn’t stop him from getting anxious whenever the topic came up. The figure wound up being Leaf, who poked his head up beside Tatl’s and sent Link an energetic wave before being rather rudely shoved away by the blonde girl, who sent him a fierce warning glare and jealously hoarded the screen to herself.

Link laughed in spite of himself.

“So why are you calling me so early?” he asked, stretching out lazily on his bed, feeling his joints start to crack. His body still wasn’t ready to get up yet.

Tatl shrugged. “I dunno. I was bored. I thought annoying you would be a fun way to pass the time.”

Link rolled his eyes. Hardly a day had gone by since the events at the Museum of National History that she hadn’t come up with some random excuse to call him.

“Well, here I am. You having fun yet?”

“No. You’re boring to talk to. When are you going to come and see me again?”

He snorted in exasperation. “Tatl, I was just up there two weeks ago with Zelda for orientation-“

“Yeah, two weeks! Two whole weeks! That’s like, forever! Charlo won’t let us go anywhere fun anymore after what happened at the museum and I can feel my brain melting into pudding! You need to come save me from my brother and the other dumb kids before I lose my mind!”

Link rolled his eyes; she could be really melodramatic at times. “Well hey, school’s about to start and then me and Zelda will be living in the same city as you and I can come see you all the time, alright?”

He’d repeated this to her countless times since he and Zelda got their acceptance letters to CoC (the College of Castleton; the anagram had an unfortunate pronunciation that Sheik still hadn’t been able to let slide), but she still needed almost constant reassurance. He supposed this probably had something to do with abandonment issues, but she didn’t seem ready to talk about that just yet. He’d wait.

“When is that again?”

“August-“

“August?!”

“Tatl, that’s only two weeks away-“

“Yeah, two weeks! An eternity, remember?! I literally just said that!”

He chuckled again, this time in earnest. Sure, she was prone to overreacting, but it was still fun to watch sometimes.

“Yeah, but when we come, me and Zelda will be there to stay. And Aryll and Granny will be there for a little while too. Maybe Charlo will let us take you and Tael somewhere fun for the day.”

Technically speaking, he didn’t think Charlo was allowed to do that, but he seemed rather fond of Link and his friends after everything that had happened. And he didn’t even understand the whole of what ‘everything that had happened’ entailed.

Tatl made a face.

“If Zelda’s there, then Navi’s gonna want to come.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing… Zelda’s ok, I guess…”

Link grinned. Tatl still wasn’t particularly accepting of Link’s girlfriend. Zelda and Aryll both insisted that it was because she was jealous, although the thought made Link feel distinctly uncomfortable. He was convinced she’d come to like Zelda after they spent some time together; Tatl was just slow to open up.

Glancing around, Tatl changed the subject.

“Your grandma scares me.”

“My grandma scares everyone.”

“Yeah… she’s still cool though.”

“She’ll be glad to hear it.”

Another figure walked by in the background, and a moment later the pudgy face of Tatl’s younger brother Tael popped onto the screen.

“Hey, is that Link? Hi, Link!”

“Hi, Tael!” Link called back, smiling at the younger boy, but a moment later Tatl was pushing him out of the frame like she’d done with Leaf.

“Yeah, hi, whatever. Well, I have to go now. Say bye to Aryll for me.”

“O-“

Before he could finish, the screen went black. She’d hung up on him. She did that a lot too.

“…kay?”

Punk.

With a sigh, Link tossed Aryll’s tablet down onto his mattress and adjusted himself so he was lying more comfortably against his pillows. Tatl could be a handful, but he was fully confident that with a little help she’d be able to pull her head out of the sand and engage more productively with her peers.

She’d been practically inconsolable when they’d first been separated, but with everything that had been happening, he hadn’t really noticed at the time. The overwhelming strangeness that followed Zelda’s Triforce wish had sort of consumed his attention, and he’d let his concerns for the little orphan girl sort of fall to the wayside. He didn’t exactly blame himself for it; everything had happened so quickly, it had been impossible to process until the bus ride home, but he still felt somewhat responsible.

The moment the front doors of the museum had been kicked open, Link had thrown his hands into the air, prepared to be tackled to the floor and arrested as the escaped convict he was. Only… that hadn’t happened.

Police officers, EMTs and a swath of other first responders had washed over them like the tide, snatching them all up and dragging them out into the fading afternoon sunlight almost before anyone could react to what had happened. Outside, they were met with a roar of cheers from a crowd of onlookers, and a baffled Link was bustled not towards an awaiting police car, but rather to one of several ambulances. Reporters and camera crews were screaming questions from beyond the perimeter, kept back by a line of burly looking police officers, but Link and his friends were quickly loaded up and rushed to the local hospital faster than he had time to blink.

It wasn't until he was halfway there that Link realized he didn't have the Master Sword with him. The Triforce had mysteriously vanished right after Zelda's wish, but Link knew his friends were still in possession of a number of museum curios and historical artifacts, and no doubt they were going to have a hard time trying to explain why they had them and what exactly had been going on with that invisible barrier. Link wished they'd had some time to discuss what they were going to tell everyone before they'd been separated, but there hadn't been any time for that. The Goddesses apparently had left them to sink or swim on their own.

The EMTs, thankfully, had seemed completely disinterested in magic or the weird happenings at the Museum of National History and had instead focused entirely on cleaning and bandaging Link’s injuries, of which there were many though thankfully none of them were life-threatening. All he needed was something to eat, a hot shower, and a long nap. They’d laughed as though he’d told a funny joke, and informed him that he’d have to wait until he was seen by a doctor before he got any of those things.

He’d had to wait longer than that, as it turned out. The hospital was in a frenzy when Link and his friends arrived. Eighteen new patients arriving simultaneously was a big deal for just about anyone, though the orphans were wholly unharmed, save for the boy in the skull t-shirt who was taken into emergency care. Marin was taken into surgery, however, as was Midna, and it was hours before Link saw Kafei or Ralph again. By the time Link had been checked out, sewn up, sponge-bathed and fed, night had fallen over Castleton, and to his immense confusion, nobody had come to arrest him yet.

An explanation of sorts came a few hours later, when (after being denied the right to see his sister or his friends and being basically held prisoner in his room, for all that the door was unlocked and the nurses were rather friendlier than guards), the door was opened and he was allowed a small huddle of visitors.

It was Auru, along with Medli, Makar, Chief Rusl Smith, and a man that Link didn’t recognize. A man who looked serious and authoritative. A man with a government-issued suit and haircut. A man who marched right over to Link without any preamble and towered over him, his fists on his hips, his expression dour.

“Link Hero,” he began, looking stern and professional before cracking a grin that made his whole face light up, “I’m Eagus, from the FBI. It’s an honor to meet you, son.”

Link could only gape, accepting the man’s proffered hand and giving him the most pathetic limp fish handshake of all time.

“Boy, I’ll tell ya,” Eagus continued, ignoring Link’s dumbfounded expression; he got the distinct feeling the man liked to hear himself speak, “when I heard that the kids trapped in the museum were the same kids from that nasty incident in Ordon last year, I just couldn’t believe it. What were the chances? With everyone pitching in to clear the rubble and help you all evacuate, it was the perfect opportunity to throw a little weight around so I could meet a minor celebrity. Still, it’s hard to believe this all just happened, isn’t it? And on the anniversary and everything. You must feel like you have the worst luck.”

The man’s distinct lack of tact was almost as jarring as the volume of his voice; did he not realize they were in a hospital? And why was he here? If it was to arrest him, why wasn’t he handcuffed to the bed? Why weren’t there hospital security guards around him? Why was Eagus just shooting the breeze, and why were the other four with him? None of this was adding up.

He shot a quizzical glance at Auru over Eagus’s shoulder only to find the man subtly shaking his head, looking thoroughly bemused. He clearly had no idea what was going on either.

Eagus was still talking, but something he’d said earlier stood out in Link’s mind. _‘Clear the rubble…’_ What rubble? There hadn’t been any rubble.

When Link finally interrupted to ask, Eagus blinked in surprise.

“Why, the rubble from the gas explosion. That was the whole reason you were trapped in the museum in the first place. Which goes back to what I said about you being unlucky; I mean, to think that that gas explosion would just happen to occur on the night of the museum’s academic slumber party. It almost strains credulity.”

Gas explosion? _Academic slumber party?_ What…? Link felt like he’d just stumbled into the twilight zone. What on earth was he…? Wait, was that what Zelda had wished for? Some way to explain away their being in the museum without magic? But then, why was no one talking about the magical barrier? And what rubble?! There hadn’t been any rubble around the museum when Link and his friends had been taken out! None of this was making sense!

And on top of that, who was buying this gas explosion story?! The only time people ever talked about gas explosions was in movies about aliens, where gas explosions were cover-ups for supernatural phenomenon- which, he realized, was sort of like what was happening right now. How would a gas explosion trap them in a museum for a full day anyway? And what was this business about an 'academic slumber party'? What kind of museum let a gaggle of random teens and orphans spend the night, particularly when said museum was filled with priceless historical artifacts? This story was so stupid, it was making Link’s head hurt. But if he could see how dumb it was, completely exhausted as he was… didn’t that mean everyone else could as well?

Apparently not. It seemed like any and all memory of the events surrounding Demise’s return and the Museum of National History had been all but erased from the minds of the populace. Other than the people who’d been inside the museum, the only ones who knew that anything weird was going on were Auru, Medli, Makar, and Anju, although why she was included on that list, Link had no idea.

Eagus had left not long after, to Link’s relief. Rusl stayed only a little longer, to check up on Link and remind him to call his Grandmother before stepping out to return to his son. That left him with Auru, Medli, and Makar. The outburst of questions was instantaneous.

Though exhausted beyond all reason, Link explained as succinctly as he could; truth be told, he only knew bits and pieces. What Zelda and the others had been through before he’d arrived at the museum was largely a mystery to him, but he was able to explain all about Ghirahim, the masked boy and Majora, Dark Link, the resurrection of Demise, and the return of Ganondorf. He ended with Zelda’s wish on the Triforce.

“Wow…” Medli whispered, looking completely awe-struck; they’d been a brilliant audience, gasping at all the right places and looking thoroughly enraptured by Link's storytelling. Link merely shrugged. Sure, when you hear about everything they’d done over the last day, it sounded really impressive. But when you were the one who lived it, talking about it just made you remember how tired you were. He really wanted to sleep. He could deal with Zelda’s wish and the weirdness surrounding it later when his brain was fully functional again.

His friends seemed to sense his need to sleep and bowed themselves out not long after, promising to return in the morning, but before he left the room, Auru turned back and asked, almost off-handedly, “Link, what happened to the Master Sword?”

Link opened his mouth to answer, and stopped, sudden guilt welling up inside of him.

He’d left it in the museum. He’d left it lying on the floor tiles where he’d tossed it aside after pulling it from Zelda’s corpse. He had no idea where it was now; whether it’d been left lying there, or if somebody had stumbled across it and taken it away. Regardless, there was basically no chance of Link returning for it. Not that he could have realistically taken it from the museum anyway, not with everyone watching, wondering where he’d gotten it, and it’s not like he could’ve kept it with him in the hospital anyway. Still, he felt guilty; Fi might have been irritating at times, but she was still his friend, his ally. His other half. The thought of never seeing her again filled him with inexpressible sorrow. He couldn’t believe he’d forgotten all about her…

Seeing his obvious distress, Auru had tried to impart some teacher-ly words of comfort, but they were lost on Link. When he finally left, Link allowed himself to settle back on his pillows, too tired to call Granny, too tired to do much of anything else. When his eyes had fluttered closed, he’d dreamed. Dreamed of a proud, verdant woman, a field of eternal green, and the promise of peace. Then the dream changed, and a familiar red-haired figure was standing in his bedroom, a too-wide grin on his face and a long, thin bundle in his arms. He stooped down and slid it under his bed.

“It will need a better hiding place, I think,” the man said, turning to Link and offering him a short bow. “Somewhere it won’t be found again until it’s needed. I trust you’ll find somewhere that fits.”

“Link!”

Link opened his eyes, glancing over towards his open doorway where his sister was currently standing, hands on her hips, looking furious.

“Seriously, get out of bed right now or we’ll leave without you!”

Link gave a contemptuous snort, but pushed himself upright anyway, letting his legs swing off the bed so his bare feet settled on the carpet below him. He could feel the bundle that was still hidden under his bed pressed up against his heel.

“Oh please. This trip is pointless without me anyway.”

“That’s not what Zelda says,” Aryll replied in that obnoxious, superior tone she put on whenever she was lecturing him. “Zelda says the Sages can move it without you, and you know that she’ll do it too. So if you want to be there, then I suggest you get your fat butt out of bed.”

Link grimaced. She was right; Zelda totally would do this without him. She had no patience for his laziness. Why did no one respect the Hero’s need to sleep in?!

With a beleaguered sigh, Link finally pushed himself to his feet. This day was going to start with our without him. He might as well be a part of it.

* * *

“Zelda, what do you think?”

Zelda frowned at herself critically in the mirror, holding up the seafoam green sleeveless dress one more time so she could examine how the color worked with her hair and skin tone. She’d literally just tried it on, but she still couldn’t quite agree with it. Honestly, it was a pretty dress, and it fit just fine, but… Zelda wasn’t the biggest fan of the colors Anju had picked out. Still, what Anju wanted was what Anju was going to get- it was her wedding, after all. Zelda really ought to be more honored that she’d been chosen as a bridesmaid, but with all the work she had found herself putting in to help Anju and Kafei get the event organized, she’d found some of Midna’s natural cynicism rubbing off on her. That’s what she gets for volunteering to help plan a last-minute rushed wedding, she mused.

“Zel?” the voice called again, and Zelda jumped in surprise.

“Oh, what? Sorry! I got distracted.”

“So?”

“It’s fine. I mean I’m not one-hundred percent sold, but it’ll do.”

“Fantastic,” Midna’s voiced drawled sarcastically through the cloth partition from where she was waiting on the outside of the dressing room. “Now hurry it up, we have to go pick up Link and Aryll soon or we won’t make it on time. I’m gonna go join Sheik in the food court, ok? Make sure he hasn’t wandered off.”

“Alright,” Zelda replied absently, not really listening as she hung the dress back on its hanger and set about putting her clothes back on. A moment later, Midna was gone.

As Zelda dressed, unhurried, her thoughts drifted inevitably towards the event that had been sucking up so much of her free time as of late; Kafei and Anju’s impending wedding.

As she’d learned in the hours and days after the events in the museum, Kafei’s mysterious disappearance from the hotel that had driven Anju to such hysterics that she’d fled to Zelda for help in the middle of the night had all been because he’d been secretly trying to work up the nerve to propose.

After everything that had happened, however, and with a renewed sense of his own mortality fresh in his mind to spur him on, Kafei hadn’t wasted much time after leaving the hospital to pop the question. Originally, she’d learned, he’d meant to use something called the ‘Couple’s Mask’ in place of a ring, as some old Terminian tradition that Anju was particularly fond of, but in Kafei’s own words, ‘after all that craziness with masks, I never wanted to see another one again.’ Instead, he opted to go the normal Hyrulean route of using a ring, which he presented to his practically hyperventilating girlfriend. She’d said yes before he could even get the question out.

Normal engagements last several months, but with school ending and the prospect of all their friends separating after summer, Kafei and Anju had decided not to wait; thus, they’d opted to hold the ceremony in Kafei’s father’s backyard on the last weekend before everyone went off to school, much to their harassed parents’ chagrin, to ensure that all of their friends could be there. As sweet and romantic as that was, rush weddings required a lot of work, and Anju had been desperate for help. Zelda had been the first to volunteer (after Cremia, the Maid of Honor, that is), and she’d dragged Link, Midna, Sheik, and Aryll into helping out too. It was stressful, but a lot of fun, and Zelda honestly couldn’t wait until next weekend. It would be the happiest moment of the summer, but also the saddest; it would be the last time her friends would all be together.

The thought made Zelda hesitate in the act of pulling her shirt over her head, and she frowned at herself in the mirror. School was over now, and their lives were about to begin… but whenever she thought of the future, she had a hard time feeling anything other than apprehension. After all, magic was back now… The world hadn’t realized it yet, largely thanks to the Triforce wish she’d made and the help of Hylia’s older sisters, but that didn’t mean they never would. Inevitably, the realization that magic was a very real and active force on the world was going to be discovered by somebody. And once word got out… once mankind realized what they could do with it…

The potential fallout could be catastrophic.

Graduation had been an odd affair. People make out your high school graduation to be this big deal, like successfully completing twelve years of standardized public education was this incredible feat. And sure, maybe if Zelda was a normal girl, she might have let herself be drawn into the spectacle. Only Zelda wasn't a normal girl. What did finishing her education matter compared to the defeat of Ganondorf and Demise? What did overpriced ceremonies mean when, at any moment, their world could come crashing down around them?

Depressing thoughts, sure, but Zelda knew that she wasn’t the only one walking across the stage that day wondering why she was wasting her time with something so small. She had a duty to perform, a future to safeguard, a country to watch over from the comforting and somewhat frustrating obscurity of her place as just another ordinary citizen. She wanted to move on to the next stage of her life right then, not parade around on a stage in an over-priced robe for a crowd of strangers.

Graduation was still something of a bittersweet moment, regardless of how pointless she saw it all now. Being done with high school meant never seeing Ordon High again, which was awesome, but it also meant separating and leaving her friends, and that was decidedly less than awesome.

Link, of course, had let her know in no uncertain terms that he wasn’t ever leaving her side. Her father and sister had cautioned Zelda about clinging to her ‘high school romance’ once college began, but they still saw her as a little girl who had yet to have her eyes opened by the big, wide world. Zelda was wiser than they gave her credit for, and Link was anything but a high school crush. She didn’t argue with Link about it, or pretend like she wanted him to consider his future; not that she wanted him to be a bum or anything, but what did career plans matter in the face of destiny? Whether they were rich or poor, as long as they were together, Princess and Hero, anything could be faced. She wasn’t worried. They would work things out as they went.

So Link and Zelda were going to the College of Castleton; it was a good school, but not as good as her father had hoped she’d get into. Truth be told, Zelda probably could have done better, but she felt in her heart that Castleton was where she needed to be. It was the heart of Hyrule, her home, and with the dangers of the potential rediscovery of magic looming over them, she wanted to be sure she could be where the action was. When she’d told Link her pick, he’d just shrugged like he’d expected no less and had sent off his own application right after her. And that was that.

Though she was keeping Link, she was losing just about everything else. Leaving her father was sad, of course, but he traveled to Castleton all the time, so that wasn’t really a big deal, and she could always visit Ordon whenever she wanted. It was leaving her friends that was really tearing her apart.

Sheik and Midna were going to Kakariko University, where Kafei and Anju were already attending. Just like with Zelda, it was duty more than anything that had made their choice for them. As the Sage of Shadow, Sheik had been told by his mother that he had a duty to his ancestry to find and revitalize the culture of the Sheikah. Before the events of the museum, doing anything of the sort would have been completely anathema to Sheik, but he had been changed by his call just as Link and Zelda had been. He was taking this seriously; he had a duty, just like they did, to his people and his country, and he would do what must be done to protect their future.

Midna had decided to tag along in large part because she didn’t want to leave Sheik, but also because she wanted to help him in studying the Shadowfolk. As it turned out, where everyone else had been forced to return their magical artifacts to the museum (with much gratitude on the museum’s part for how they’d managed to ‘save’ so many of them from the ‘gas explosion’, though how no one had noticed that they were magical yet was lost on Zelda; she supposed it was because nobody was allowed to touch them), Midna had somehow managed to sneak the Book of Mudora out in her handbag, along with the stone Link had used to transform into a wolf. She said she was determined to help Zelda study magic up until they found some way to magically travel across enormous distances like they did in books, so they could still hang out all the time.

Many of their friends, like Aryll, Colin, and Ralph, were underclassman, and thus were staying behind in Ordon for one more year of high school, but there were still a few others who were heading on their way.

Marin had already applied to and been accepted by a school back in Koholint before she’d been forced to move to Ordon for her father’s job (who was, apparently, a notable mycologist). This had been a heavy blow for the group, who had grown particularly close to the airheaded girl in the past couple of months; the distances between Ordon and Kakariko and Castleton were big, but at least they were still in the same country. Koholint was across the sea! Still, it was what she wanted. She had apparently been given her own duty during their adventures in the museum, and she had sworn to them that her quest to spread the teachings of the Composer Brothers would bring her back to Hyrule before long.

Groose, Zelda had been surprised and delighted to learn, had apparently fallen head-over-heels for the red-haired girl, completely forgetting his one-time infatuation with Zelda to her tremendous relief, and was understandably torn up upon the revelation that Marin was leaving the country. He’d confided privately to Midna (which, if Zelda were being honest, was probably the most bizarre of all the friendships to have spawned out of the museum incident) that he’d been searching for the guts to ask her out right before she’d announced her plans, and now he didn’t see any point in it anymore. Midna had given him one of her classic lectures laden with insults and sarcastic quips that had sort-of managed to put some fire back in the hulking Gerudo boy, but as the weeks went by, he still hadn’t made his move. Just as Zelda was beginning to question if he’d ever get around to it, it happened.

They'd been having a party for no discernible reason over at Groose's house. In all honesty, they'd taken to holding big get-togethers with all of their friends at random intervals during the week and labeling them 'parties' just because. Groose and his father had apparently just finished construction on a greenhouse in their backyard, something for Groose’s mom who loved gardening, and before she actually got to work planting Groose had convinced his parents to let him throw a ‘graduation party’ inside of it.

The actual reason of the party didn’t become apparent until Zelda had shown up; Groose was apparently making good on a promise, and before his friends’ eyes, Groose pulled an old set of wooden reeds out of his shirt and played a short song, summoning a badly burned talking scarecrow out of the ground.

His name was Pierre, and as she soon learned, Groose had apparently promised to summon him to somewhere nice and peaceful after he got out of the museum. Pierre had to swear not to dance around or talk when anyone other than them were around, particularly Groose’s parents, if he was to live there, but he hadn’t seemed to mind once the party had started. ‘Party’ is perhaps too strong of a word; they basically just hung out, eating food and laughing while Groose and Marin and some of the others got to work repairing Pierre’s damaged body, providing him with a new hat and vest and cleaning up some of the charring, painting him a new face. When Kafei turned on the music, Pierre showed them all up with his surprisingly intense dance moves. All in all, it was a good night.

At some point, someone had been talking to Marin about her move back to Koholint, and she had said something along the lines of, “Yeah, and I mean, it’s gonna be really hard… I mean, I’ll be leaving all of you guys, my dad, and then there’s my boyfriend-“ which is about the time that Groose snapped.

“Huh?!” he squawked, materializing out of the crowd like a wraith, which was impressive for a guy of his size, and all but shoving himself into the conversation. “Whaddya mean, ‘boyfriend’?!”

Marin’s eyes grew wide with surprise as everyone else began not-so-discretely averting their gazes in obvious discomfort. Her cheeks had flushed pink with embarrassment.

“I, uh… Groose! Where did you-?”

“How long have you had a boyfriend for?!” he continued, practically bowling her over, his loud, brash voice tinged with poorly-hidden dismay.

“What?”

“Why didn’t you tell me?!”

“Um…”

“Who is he?! What’s his name?!”

Zelda, in an effort to hide how distinctly uncomfortable she felt, shot a quiet, questioning glance at Link. He shrugged, then looked at Midna, who looked at Aryll, who looked at Kafei, who looked at Pierre, who said in a loud voice, “Hey, don’t look at me- she’s not my type!”

Marin’s cheeks had only grown redder, but her eyes had taken on a hard, emotional cast.

“What do you mean, ‘what is his name?!’” she shot back, her eyes flashing with surprising unshed tears. “How can you ask that?!”

Groose could only gawk. The hurt in her voice was clearly palpable, and suddenly Groose was on the defensive. “I… but… I just meant…”

“Seriously, the one person you think you wouldn’t have to tell!” she continued, talking to no one in particular, and this time the baffled look on Groose’s face was reflected by literally everyone else.

Before he could ask for clarification, she continued, “I mean, does Link have to tell Zelda that they’re dating? Does Midna have to tell Sheik?! No! They just know! And I shouldn’t have to tell my own boyfriend that I’m dating him either!”

You could practically see the gears working in everyone’s heads as they struggled to make sense of Marin’s perplexing comment. When the only logical conclusion was reached by everybody, their reactions were pretty diverse.

Kafei let out an exasperated snort and buried his face in his cup. Aryll tried and failed to stifle her frenetic giggles in her fist. Zelda had to struggle to fight back the groan that threatened to escape from her lips. Seriously, she loved the girl, but Marin could be a complete ditz sometimes.

Midna was the only one who didn’t at least pretend to hide how she felt about the situation.

“Oh gawds,” she drawled, rolling her eyes with exaggerated sarcasm. “Seriously, it would have to be you two. No one else but you two could ever be so… Y’know what, never mind. I’m out.”

For their part, Groose and Marin had seemed to have forgotten all about the crowd around them.

Groose’s face had grown slack, his cheeks pink, his eyes wide with wonder and apprehension.

“W-wait a minute,” he stammered, not sounding at all like the arrogant, confident jock Zelda knew him to be. “Are you sayin’ what I think you’re sayin’?”

“Well, I don’t know,” she shot back, her expression fiery, “I guess that depends on what it is you think I’m saying.”

“D’you think we’re goin’ out?”

His voice sounded so small and hopeful, Zelda couldn’t help but grin.

If anything, the hurt in Marin’s eyes grew even more pronounced.

“I _thought_ we were!” she practically shouted, gesticulating wildly with her hands. “I _thought_ I’d made it pretty obvious how I felt about you! But apparently, I was wrong!”

“Wait up,” Groose babbled frantically, his hands clamped down on the sides of his head, giving him a maddening look. “Since when were we dating?!”

Marin’s mouth opened and closed a few times as she searched for an answer.

“I… we… I don’t know! For a while now!”

“When did you ask me out?!”

“What? I didn’t!”

“Well, I didn’t ask you out neither!”

“So?! What does that have to do with anything?!”

“If neither of us asked the other out, then how on earth were we dating?!”

Rare were the moments that Groose was making the most sense, Zelda mused lightly to herself while Marin scrambled to come up with a response.

“We just were!” she finally blurted out, sounding exasperated. “I mean, after everything we’ve been through… A-and all the time we spend alone together, I mean, of course we’re dating! How could we not be dating?!”

"Because we're not!" Groose shot back, throwing his hands into the air. "You can't just arbitrarily decide that you're dating someone! You gotta ask, or make it official, or… I dunno, make it more obvious to the person you think you're dating, otherwise, we wind up in situations like this!"

“So then how was I supposed to ‘make it obvious’?!” she exploded, practically beside herself with anger.

“Like this!”

And with that, Groose seized her by the arm, jerked her forward, and proceeded to kiss her.

Aryll let out a scandalized laugh, Kafei wolf-whistled loudly, and everyone else in the vicinity immediately began cheering and clapping as Groose and Marin proceeded to make out with exceeding gusto right there in the middle of the room. Zelda couldn’t help the grin that had plastered itself across her face; she wondered if she and Link had been that obvious before she’d kissed him last year. It was sweet, getting to see something similar happen to two of your friends, seeing it all go down from an outside-perspective.

After the cheering and catcalls had died down, however, it soon became apparent that Groose and Marin were showing no signs of stopping any time soon. Their ardent kissing was becoming increasingly sloppy and energetic, and an awkward pall quickly fell over the group gathered in the greenhouse.

“Um, maybe we should…?” someone offered from across the room when Groose and Marin's hands began roaming.

“Retreat!” Kafei bellowed, half-scandalized, half-beside himself with laughter, and the gaggle of gathered teens quickly rushed out of the greenhouse to give Groose and Marin a little privacy, all the while Pierre’s voice could be heard overhead, shouting, “Yeah, baby! Get some! Get funky! Do the dance of love!”

And that was basically why nobody would ever go out on a double-date with Groose and Marin from that moment onward.

Still, their relationship was new, and there was a lot of talk among the group about whether they’d survive the separation; Marin heading off to Koholint and Groose staying in Ordon to help out at his father’s carpentry business. Zelda honestly wasn’t sure; she wanted to believe they could do it, but the time and distance was nothing to sneeze at. In Groose’s own words, however, they would just have to face every day as it came. She wished them the best.

Something buzzed in her purse. Stooping over, Zelda fished her phone out of her bag. There was a text from Sheik.

‘ _Hurry up or we’re leaving you.’_

Zelda scowled. Brat.

Wasting no more time on thoughts, Zelda hastily threw the rest of her clothes on and rushed out of the dressing room, heading towards the check-out. She was going to kick Sheik when she saw him next.

* * *

By the time Zelda, Sheik, and Midna had pulled up in front of the Hero household, it was already past noon. They were running late, in large part thanks to how long it took to ring up Zelda's purchase and pull Sheik away from his fast-food fetish; they would need to do some speeding if they were going to arrive on time.

Link and Aryll were waiting on the porch when they pulled up, Aryll looking as cheery as ever with her twin pigtails and neon track shoes. Link was carrying a long, thin cloth bundle that he had to shove in between his knees when he and his sister clambered into the backseat of Midna’s mother’s Subaru. Strictly speaking, they didn’t have permission to use this particular car, but as Midna’s parents were out of town and Midna was about to leave for college anyway, she’d decided she didn’t care. She kept telling them all during the ride how she’d committed ‘grand theft auto’, though borrowing your mother’s car while she was away hardly fit the definition. Still, whatever made the excitable girl happy.

For all that it was the Twili family’s vehicle, Sheik was the one who was driving. Midna, the smallest of the group, had somehow snagged the passenger seat, leaving Zelda, Link, and Aryll to crowd together in the back seat. Despite Link obviously being the bigger of the three, they made him sit in the middle so that, if either girl decided to nod-off during the trip, the could use him as a pillow. He let out a few petulant grumbles about how unfair that was at the start of the trip, but nobody paid him any attention, and he soon let it go.

The trip was only supposed to last a few hours, so nobody had brought any snacks or anything. They figured if they got hungry on the way back, they’d stop at a restaurant along the way. Midna had brought a book to pass the time, but it ultimately wound up forgotten as the five friends passed the hours of their trip laughing and teasing one another, reveling in what remained of their time together, singing along to Midna’s joke playlist of terrible boyband songs which Link and Sheik still somehow knew all the words to. The afternoon flew by in a blur.

The prospect of a road trip with her friends had her inevitably thinking back to the last time the lot of them had crowded together in a vehicle for hours at a time; their return to Ordon from Castleton after they’d been released from the hospital.

Auru had told the other chaperones to load up the rest of the kids on the bus they’d originally rented and take the kids back Sunday morning and had opted to remain with Zelda, Link and the others until they were officially discharged, which wound up being later that afternoon.

Zelda’s father had offered to come up and get her, as had several of the other’s parents, but every one of them had declined, opting instead to take the new, smaller bus that had been provided for them so that they could all return home together. All of them who would be returning to Ordon, that was; they had to leave behind the orphans, as well as Kafei, Anju, and Linebeck. To say their farewells were emotional is a bit of an understatement, but before they knew what had happened, they’d all loaded up onto the bus and were pulling onto the freeway, headed back home.

It was a quiet bus ride.

The only people on board who hadn't been in the museum were Auru, Medli, Makar, and the bus driver, but they seemed to sense the air of general exhaustion that had gripped the rest of the group, and the trip passed in relative silence.

Zelda and Link had claimed the back seat, and she’d spent a majority of the hours resting her head on her boyfriend’s shoulders while he slept, letting her eyes sweep up and down the aisle, taking in her friends tired, content expressions.

Sheik and Midna were both asleep in the seat next to them, Midna snoring for all she was worth, practically laying on top of her boyfriend whose face was pressed up against the dirty bus window. Her arm was encased in a thick cast which was already littered in signatures from all of her friends.

Then there was Groose and Marin, who spent the entire first half of the bus ride chatting incessantly, laughing and teasing and generally enjoying each other’s company while everyone else was asleep.

In front of her sat Aryll, Colin, and Ralph. Aryll and Colin’s relationship seemed to have improved drastically at some point during their stint in the museum, and a part of her wondered if they’d sit together. They didn’t; Aryll had eased herself into the seat directly in front of Link and Zelda, angling her crutches up against the window, and Colin and Ralph had sat themselves in front of her other. To Zelda’s surprise, the three had engaged in a warm, light-hearted conversation after they’d awoken from their respective naps, and it carried them through most of the bus ride. Any and all of the tenseness that had been the hallmark of Aryll and Colin’s relationship over the past year, or the awkward one-sided crush Ralph had suffered from, seemed to have completely evaporated. Colin looked happy again. Zelda was glad.

At some point over the end of the school year and the start of summer, Colin had started dating again. Only, he wasn’t dating Aryll. Zelda could still remember the surprise that had flooded through her when Colin had arrived at one of their little group get-togethers hand-in-hand with Saria. Apparently, something had changed between the two after the museum. Though Colin swore up and down that his friendship with her since their kindergarten days was entirely platonic, a certain glint in Saria’s eye hinted to Zelda that maybe the shorter girl had been hiding feelings for him all along.

Aryll seemed openly supportive of the relationship. She was met with shock by the revelation, just like everyone else, but rather than erupt in anger like Zelda had expected of Link’s emotional younger sibling, Aryll merely smiled and wished them luck. Still, there was a certain tightness about her eyes, a plastic-quality to her smile; though she hadn’t pressed the issue, Zelda was convinced that Aryll was hiding her hurt inside. The one-eighty her and Colin’s relationship had pulled after the museum and Aryll’s renewed eagerness to spend time with him had sort of clued Zelda in on the fact that maybe Aryll wasn’t as over her ex-boyfriend as she was trying to let on, and the sight of him dating one of her best friends can’t have been easy. But then, maybe she felt like she had no right to be upset after everything that had happened between them, especially now that Colin was finally moving on. He certainly looked happy; happier than Zelda had ever seen him. Though she didn’t know how serious his and Saria’s relationship was, or what might happen between Colin and Aryll in this next school year, she wished them luck all the same.

A large part of Colin's newfound happiness almost certainly stemmed from the newest addition to his family. Somehow, impossibly, Colin had actually made good on his promise and had managed to finagle his parents into adopting Neri. Zelda had no idea how he did it, or what a person had to do to convince their parents to adopt another kid, especially since Uli, Colin's mom, had a new baby already. But at some point before leaving Castleton's hospital, he'd introduced Neri to his father, and when his mom had flown up to check on him, he’d practically dragged her down to meet her too. According to Colin, his mom had fallen in love with her the moment she laid eyes on her, and the rest, as they say, is history.

Neri wasn’t the only lucky little orphan to have found a surprise adoption waiting for them in the wake of the Museum incident. The little boy in the skull t-shirt, the one who’d donned Majora’s Mask, the one whose name Zelda had never learned, had apparently already been in the process of being adopted before Ghirahim had decided to use him for his plans. This was part of why he’d been being such a brat to Tatl and the others; a combination of bragging that he was getting out of that orphanage and an inability to express his sorrow over leaving his friends. Zelda didn’t know who had adopted him, but she hoped his future would be happy.

The other little kid to get adopted was Ciela, the toothless five-year-old with the adorable lisp, and, perhaps most surprising of all, the person who’d adopted her was Linebeck.

Apparently, at some point during his trip through the museum, Linebeck had come to terms with some personal business that had prevented him from ever wanting children, and after a long talk with his girlfriend Jolene, they'd decided to take that step. According to Linebeck, he hated the adoption process, because it felt like shopping for children, but in the end, Ciela had found a new home, _so she supposed it couldn’t be all bad._

_Linebeck had also surprised them with the news that he was quitting his job at the museum, and he, Jolene, and Ciela were all going to move back to the Phantom Isles, where he and Jolene would restart Linebeck’s old ferry business, shipping tourists around the islands. It wouldn’t pay much, and it wasn’t glamorous, but it was something he loved, something that made him happy, and it would be enough to support three hungry bellies. Zelda had been surprised at how sad that news made her, that yet another of her friends was leaving the country, but Linebeck had promised them free ferry rides if they ever visited, making it clear in his Linebeck way that he did, in fact, want them to visit. Marin had been particularly excited to hear this news, since Koholint and the Phantom Isles were fairly close together, and she'd promised to drop by and visit whenever she could._

_Tatl, Tael, Navi, and Leaf were all still at the orphanage, and at least for the moment, it didn't seem like anyone was rushing to take them in. Finding someone who wanted to adopt a pair of siblings was hard, particularly when one of them had such a sour disposition. Navi was a little too old for most people, and Leaf, with his ADHD, generally scared most people away. But that wasn't to say that life hadn't improved for them as well._

_Kafei had gotten his father to make a rather generous donation to the West Road Orphanage, which, when coupled with the numerous other donations and charity drives that went up in the wake of the museum incident (an event which pushed the orphanage into the public eye, what with all of the news coverage), provided Charlo with the funds he needed to buy new clothes and furniture, redo the floors, and generally make the orphanage a much-less shabby place to live. Zelda and the others had teamed up to donate a bunch of computers as well, providing Navi and the others with a way to keep in contact. Some of them, like Tatl, abused this privilege almost daily, but Navi was known to call Zelda and Sheik at least once a week to check in on them, and Zelda knew that Leaf called Ralph as well._

_Ralph, for his part, was about the same as ever, though he’d finally forgone his ridiculous blue jacket and had toned down his attitude a bit, making it easier to deal with him. He was actually pretty nice once you got past his ego. He’d apparently decided to drop his pursuit of Aryll for all that Aryll was single, and he’d confided to Link and Zelda not too long ago that he had plans to visit Labrynna after graduation._

_“Not to live there, mind,” he’d clarified hastily once he met their incredulous gazes. “I may be of Labrynnian descent, but Hyrule is still my home. Regardless… I think I’d like to get to know the lands my parents loved so much. Maybe it will give me a deeper appreciation for my own home.”_

_My own home…_

_Zelda smiled out the window, taking in the trees as they sped past. Her home was an entire country, from the metropolis of Castleton to rural Ordon, from the peaks of Death Mountain to the shores of Lake Hylia and the vast, arid stretches of the Gerudo Desert. She loved her home. She loved it dearly. She always had. She always would._

_Ordon’s pastoral countryside gave way before long to the dense foliage of the Lost Woods. The trees outside dimmed the afternoon sun, casting the roadway into shadow, but Sheik drove on without hesitation. Though magic had vanished from the word, legends remained of what happened to those who went wandering into the Lost Woods and never found their way out. Nowadays, there were roads to help you cut through the forest, and park rangers to find anyone who lost their way, but though the threat was mostly gone, the mystery remained. This forest was old beyond old, and Zelda knew that, even now, many ancient secrets probably lay buried behind a sea of endless trees. After today, it would add one more to its collection._

_After several turns and winding paths, they eventually pulled on to an old dirt road, the gate for which had been just recently unlatched, the dirt disturbed with signs of recent tire tracks. The others had gotten there before them._

_After several minutes of slow, bumpy travel, they pulled into a small clearing populated by a handful of other vehicles and about a dozen people, all standing around and talking. They waved when they saw Sheik pull in, crowding around as Zelda, Link and the others exited the car, stretching their sore limbs and taking in their first breaths of fresh forest air._

_“Took you guys long enough,” Colin laughed as he approached, his newfound little sister Neri on his shoulders. Aryll beamed at them politely before excusing herself to talk to some of the others._

_“Yeah, sorry._ _Somebody_ _had to take forever trying on pretty dresses-“_

_Sheik cut off with a curse as Zelda swatted him on the arm._

_“We lost track of time,” she filled in sweetly as Sheik scowled in her direction. Colin and Neri laughed._

“You guys ready?” Kafei called out from across the clearing where he was talking to Anju, Groose, and Marin. “I’m sick of standing around, let’s get a move on!”

The crowd let out a murmur of agreement, and then without pausing to see if Zelda or Link were following, they began heading off deeper into the woods, following an old, overgrown path.

Zelda hesitated long enough to cast Link a searching look. He had the bundle in his arms, but his face looked uncertain. She knew he wasn’t looking forward to this; he’d put it off long enough as it was. But it was time. Time to end it. Next week was Kafei and Anju’s wedding, and then they’d all be leaving for school. It was now or never.

“Are you ok?” she asked, softly enough so only he heard.

Link swallowed thickly, then nodded. He didn’t speak, however.

Nodding her head in understanding, Zelda tangled her fingers in his free hand and pulled him along gently behind her.

This portion of the woods was old and unused. Private property of the Dotour family, something the mayor had purchased once several years ago with the thought of maybe building a cabin out in the woods for him and his family to enjoy, only he’d realized after the fact that he and his wife hated nature, so the woods went unused. Kafei had been the one to offer it up for Link’s services, promising that it was an area that no one ever went to, someplace where it could be hidden without fear of it being found out. Link had agreed initially but had then put off his visit for months, coming up with excuse after excuse for why it wasn't time yet.

Zelda had been the one to put her foot down. Their summer was over, the time to move on had come, and after next week the Sages would all be gone. If they were going to do this, it had to be now, while everyone was still together. Naturally, upon hearing about the trip, everyone had wanted to tag along, and it had turned into this entire ordeal. What was originally just supposed to be Link, Zelda, and the Sages (and Kafei, since he had the key to the gate) turned in to everyone who knew anything about what was taking place tagging along.

There was Sheik and Midna, Aryll, Colin and Neri, Groose and Marin, Kafei and Anju, Linebeck who’d flown down for the event (though he’d left Ciela with Jolene), Ralph, Medli and Makar, and Auru. They made quite the procession, trampling their way through the woods, talking and laughing and generally enjoying themselves. But as the minutes dragged on, Link’s melancholy seemed to seep its way into all of them. The trees around them grew more dense, the sky overhead began to darken, and all had grown quiet.

Glancing back, Zelda tugged on Link’s hand to get his attention and raised a solitary eyebrow.

He nodded, understanding her unvoiced question, and cleared his throat loud enough to get everyone else’s attention.

“I, uh…” he began, looking uncertain as his eyes raked the trees. A bit of land rose up over to their right, a rocky outcropping jutting out of the fertile earth, barely visible from the path. He gestured towards it with his bundle. “Over there should do.”

“Finally…” Zelda thought she heard Sheik grumble, but they ignored him. Trying to project strength into her despondent boyfriend, Zelda led the way through the trees.

The rocks stuck up straight out of the ground, like a stone cast aside by a giant, a miniature mountain in a forest of trees. It wasn’t very large, maybe the size of a school bus, but the end tapered off into a jagged point almost fifteen feet above their heads, and beneath that was a hollow sort of depression that sank into the rock. It was almost cave-like, except that it wasn’t nearly big enough to be called a cave, the space inside hardly more than five feet deep. It was tall enough to stand under, however, and honestly, something about the setting had a sort of presence. The rocky shelf above would protect from rain or snow or prying eyes unless they approached from just the right angle.

It was almost… too perfect a spot. If Zelda hadn't known better, she'd have said this location had been prepared just for this moment.

They got to work immediately. No words were spoken, almost as if the solemnity of the moment had caused a hush to fall over them. No words were needed, regardless; they’d discussed at length beforehand what needed to be done, and so without any encouragement, Groose set about immediately finding a large enough rock to suit their purposes, choosing one that was particularly round and moss-covered, setting it just under the rocky shelf.

Groose stepped aside, wiping his hands on his jeans. He was replaced by Colin, Aryll, Ralph, Linebeck, Sheik, and Kafei. Zelda joined last, linking her hands with her friends and fellow Sages. With an encouraging nod, she closed her eyes and focused, feeling more than seeing the others do the same around her.

The world was dark, but not at the same time. Power surged through her, bright and distinct. The power of the Sage of Time coursed down into the ground, merging with the magic sent from the other Sages, blending together in a tapestry of colors, converging inward on the stone Groose had placed on the ground. Something changed in the air around them.

From behind, she heard several people gasp.

When she finally opened her eyes again, the clearing around them seemed different somehow. The light still cast shadows throughout the trees, but the sun seemed… brighter, somehow. The shadows were darker. The trees seemed to stand a little taller, their greens greener and browns browner. The very earth seemed to tremble with newfound weight. The wind danced, and the leaves trembled, causing the light to flicker, casting dappled shadows across the landscape.

They had transformed this land. From this moment on, and for an indeterminate amount of time, this tiny hidden parcel of the Lost Woods would become the new Sacred Grove.

The other Sages stepped back, joining the hushed crowd, but Zelda remained. The rock Groose had chosen had changed as well. No longer was it a lumpy, rotund, moss-covered thing. Now, cemented on the ground as though it had grown naturally from the earth, sat a distinctive pedestal. The moss was gone; instead, on its face, the Triforce stood out in sharp relief. A small indentation could be seen on the top. Newly-born, the pedestal awaited.

Turning her head, Zelda watched as Link slowly unwrapped his bundle.

The Master Sword seemed to glow beneath the soft afternoon sun.

Link’s hesitation seemed to have vanished. His courage, he had once told her, reacted to her. With the Master Sword in hand once more, emboldened by the sight of her waiting for him, Link stepped forward, closing the distance between them.

The time was now.

Repositioning the blade so that the tip pointed downward, he prepared himself to strike the sword into the stone and met Zelda's gaze one last time. She smiled sadly. She knew how hard this was for him… But it had to be done.

A figure exploded out of the gem of his sword in a salvo of light particles, manifesting in the form of a young woman seemingly made entirely from blue gemstones.

“Master,” the figure began in a monotone greeting, “before you place me within that stone, may I have a moment to speak?”

Link blinked in surprise but nodded nonetheless. Zelda half-expected Fi to take this moment to bid farewell to him but found herself starting when the Spirit of the Master Sword turned her pupil-less gaze on her instead.

“Your Grace,” Fi began, completely emotionless, “permit me to say that it is a relief to see you standing here before me. I must offer my sincerest apologies; that I was the blade that pierced your flesh and stole your life away shames me to my absolute core. You created me for the purpose of helping Link in protecting this world, and instead, I have failed you. No words will ever be sufficient in obtaining your forgiveness, but I have hope that, in the future, I might one day repay my debt to you."

“Fi, stop,” Zelda cut in, stepping closer, lowering her voice. She didn’t really care if the others heard or not, but she meant these words implicitly for her and Link alone. “I don’t blame you for what happened. I never blamed you. It’s not your fault, so don’t let yourself dwell on it. I don’t blame Link either, and honestly… I don’t even blame that nameless god who drove Link mad. All of us, everyone who was there that day, knew what was at stake. I risked my life because I knew what we were fighting for was worth it, and that meant that I was prepared to die to see it happen. I still am. I always will be, in this or in any lifetime.

“That I ultimately did die is tragic, yes, but I’m alive now, so let it go.” Granted, she was only alive because of a total fluke, but whatever. She hadn’t given Tingle the Hobo near enough credit. Before they’d left the hospital, she and Kafei had gone off to try and find him, to thank him for all that he’d done for them, only… he was nowhere to be found. Tingle the Hobo… No, Tingle the Hero. He’d saved her life, and she’d never be able to thank him. “You don’t need my forgiveness, Fi. For all that you’ve done for Link and for Hyrule, I am just as indebted to you as you are to me. So rest easy, ok? Just like I’ll rest easy, always knowing that Link will have you to rely on.”

Fi smiled, the first emotion she’d ever seen her express.

“I am glad to have the chance to have seen you again, Your Grace.”

“Me too, Fi,” Zelda replied, smiling sadly.

Fi turned her attention back to Link.

“Master Link… the time has come for me to return to my endless slumber.”

Link smiled, but Zelda saw the way his shoulders sagged.

“I knew you were going to say that,” he replied, and his voice sounded uncharacteristically gruff. “You’re not planning on waking up again, are you? The next time I draw you, you’ll just be a sword.”

Fi nodded but said nothing.

Link looked down, the Master Sword trembling in his grip.

“Will… Will I never see you again?”

Fi was quiet, and Zelda thought for a moment that her silence was supposed to be her answer, but then after a pause, she spoke.

“Master… After our first life together, when you purified me in the flames of the Old Gods, when we struck down Demise and saved the Spirit Maiden, I told you that, after I went to sleep, that I would never awaken. That was supposed to be the end of it. Never had I considered the possibility that I might one day be given a second chance to speak with you. The probability of me waking again was less than .001 percent. That continues to be true now. However, you defied my expectations once before. Who is to say what might happen again in the future? I told you once before that I hoped we would meet again in another life… and we have. Perhaps the Goddesses will permit us the same again.”

Link nodded, sniffling slightly, unshed tears flooding his eyes.

“They will, Fi. I know it. I don’t know how long it will be, but I know it.”

“Then until then, Master Link,” Fi replied, nodding warmly. A moment later, she was gone.

Link closed his eyes and lowered his head, struggling to contain himself. Zelda stepped forward, laying a comforting hand on his shoulder. She could feel his pain; leaving her sisters behind, not knowing if she’d ever see them again, or if she’d even remember them in her next life, had nearly torn her in two.

The first night after the museum, when Link and the others were still at the hospital, Zelda had taken the completed Triforce, which she’d still held on the back of her hand, and traveled in secret to the Temple of Time (magically, of course). At that time of night, the building was closed, and nobody was around. She’d opened a portal to the Sacred Realm and there, hidden away the Triforce for future generations. But before she left, there had been a moment of delicious temptation, where she considered what would happen if she laid her hand across those sacred triangles and wished herself a Goddess again. She could have her sisters back. She could have anything.

But that was not the way of things. She couldn’t remember much, but she remembered that. A selfish wish like that was a sure sign of an unbalanced heart. The Triforce would split again. Regardless, her sisters had told her that the possibility of her returning to them was greater than zero. Borderline impossible still, but greater than zero. Just as was the possibility of Fi and Link reuniting. She would fight on for her dream, just as Link would fight on for his. Any hope, no matter how small, was enough.

Link cleared his throat and shook his head, clearing his thoughts. Stepping forward, he walked around the pedestal so he was standing behind it, facing Zelda and their gathered friends. Without meeting their eyes, he rose the Master Sword high into the air, and, with a short grunt, drove the blade point-first into the hollow.

The space beneath the boulder rang like a bell. The air died. The birds grew silent.

It was done.

One by one, their friends turned and began walking silently through the trees. Eventually, there was no one left but her and Link.

After an indeterminate amount of time, she broke the silence.

“Are you ok?”

He laughed, a short, humorless bark, but the look he sent her was warm.

“No. But I will be.”

“You will,” she agreed, stepping closer, slipping her hand into his once more, leaning her forehead against his shoulder. “We all will.”

He sighed, running his free hand through his hair.

“Y’know… I… I almost don’t want to say this, like it’ll jinx us or something, but… Zelda, I… I think it’s over. At least… for us. Or, for this us.”

She laughed softly as he stumbled over his explanation, but she knew what he meant. For them, in this lifetime, destiny had had its fill of them. They were free to live out the rest of their lives in peace.

“I think you’re right,” she replied, lifting her head to meet his gaze. A small smile tugged its way across her lips. “Now we just have the rest of our lives to worry about.”

“Oh, is that all?” he laughed, finally stepping away from the pedestal and tugging her behind him. Together, they began making their way back through the trees to the path that led to where they’d parked.

“Mmm,” Zelda replied, allowing herself to enjoy this last moment of peaceful tranquility, just the two of them alone in the new Sacred Grove. When they entered the car, it would be the normal and mundane from here on out. A normal life… somehow, that thought was almost scary.

“But we’ll face it together, right?” she asked, noticing the way his eyes flicked back one last time to catch a glimpse of the sword in its pedestal before it was lost behind the line of trees.

“Of course,” he replied, giving her hand a squeeze and flashing a roguish grin. “Just you, me… and all of our other obnoxious companions.”

“Where would we be without them?” Zelda replied, an engaging smile on her face.

“Somewhere with fewer migraines, probably.”

Up ahead, they could hear Sheik laying on the car horn, shouting for them to hurry up.

They met each other’s eyes and laughed.

“Y’know,” Zelda said quickly as they picked up their pace, “just because some of us leave, that doesn’t mean we’ll never see each other again.”

She was talking about their friends, yes, but she was also talking about Fi. And she was also talking about Hylia’s sisters.

Link seemed to get the memo, because he replied, somewhat softly, “I know, Zel. All of us… we’re connected by more than just bonds of friendship. Our lives are tied together. And maybe, some of us may never meet again in this life. And maybe we won’t meet in the next life, either. But one day, in one life, we’ll find each other again, and those bonds we forged will bring us together. We just have to be patient, and trust in each other.”

Zelda smiled, enjoying the simple truth of his words.

“You’re awfully poetic today.”

“Oh, shut up…”

Zelda laughed, dodging the hand that dived down to tickle her ribs, and a moment later the two teens were racing through the woods, their laughter echoing through the trees, the entirety of their uncertain futures in front of them.

Behind, alone in the grove, the Master Sword slept on.


End file.
